Sachi
by Quillwing717
Summary: Inn owner InuYasha Kasahara is finally satisfied with his life. Undisturbed, isolated…and peaceful. Until the arrival of Kagome, half-frozen, partially clothed, and unconscious from a gunshot to the head. Worse…her face is chillingly familiar.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: Rumiko Takahashi invented him. Rumiko Takahashi owns him. I don't own didley squat, so if you sue me, all you'll get are my term papers. And you don't _really_ want those, do you?

* * *

PROLOGUE:

* * *

Tokyo was a gem that shone brightly in the night--far brighter that the dim illumination of the office overlooking it.

"We've found him."

The dark head didn't move, never turned from the wall of hermetically sealed windows and its awe-inspiring view of the city lights. The sparkling, multi-colored points outside, both moving and stationary, spread outward in all directions twenty stories below. After a long silence, a small, malicious smile twisted a set of thin lips. "You're sure it's him?"

The woman standing at the desk behind him allowed a brief, disdainful sneer to curve her own lips, repulsion in the set of her features as she glared at the back of the chair. She tossed her perfectly coifed head and carelessly flung a folder onto the desk. The pale manila contrasted starkly with the deep, polished cherry of the wood. "See for yourself. The fool still goes by the same first name."

The elegant leather chair swiveled away from the windows, but the woman had already schooled her features, and met him with a bland, uninterested expression. His narrow red eyes laughed coldly at her, letting her know that he knew anyway. Long, graceful fingers reached out to grasp the folder, opening it and flipping through the papers in silence. The small, malicious smile grew slightly and a satisfied chuckle vibrated into the unnatural atmosphere that always permeated the office.

Finally, he set the folder back on the desk and focused on the woman in front of him, his usually mild, composed expression as pleased as she'd ever seen it. The sight sent chills up her spine, and she fought a shiver of loathing. "How very…interesting." He picked up one of the two other files that stacked against each other on his desk, ready for his use, and pitched it to the woman. "Send the brothers out now." He paused. "However, I want no action taken without my direct orders. Make that very clear."

The woman bowed her head in obeisance and turned for the double doors leading out of the oppressive luxury of the office.

"I didn't say you could leave."

She paused, gritting her teeth, but turned around and waited patiently. He was staring down at the second of the two folders, his fingers stroking it thoughtfully, almost lovingly. Finally, he picked it up and tossed it to the woman as well. "Have this one brought to me. Immediately."

She caught the folder easily, and flipped it open. Large red eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously. "But this is--"

"Are you questioning my orders? Need I remind you why that is unwise?"

Heading the warning smirk of his tone, her head bowed once again. Her teeth bit into her tongue, but the subservient position hid her involuntary grimace of resentment.

He let out another amused sound, and his chair turned back to the spectacular view. "_Now_ you may leave."

She exited quickly, trying not to seem too eager to be out of his presence. He smiled again, amused at her obvious attempt to conceal her hatred. Then, dismissing her from his thoughts, he once again shuffled through the papers she had delivered to him, reading carefully this time.

* * *


	2. Surprise Guest

Disclaimer: Inu and friends are not now, nor is it likely that they ever will be, mine. So lets just enjoy them together and thank Rumiko Takahashi for her excellent imagination.

* * *

CHAPTER 1

* * *

It was so faint he almost missed it. The acrid smell of blood.

But the almost non-existent trace that slipped across his nose was enough to grab his attention, and the unexpected scent caused him to pull up short in surprise. His breath puffed evenly into the night, the thick streams of heated humidity barely visible in the darkness. He frowned, sniffing at the frozen scents in the air to investigate further. Blood in and of itself wasn't an incredibly unusual occurrence in this part of the forest--wild animals had to eat somehow.

But this…this was human blood, and it was close.

His expression darkened. Years had passed since he'd last smelled human blood, and the very presence of the scent in this part of the forest brought a growl of aggression to his throat. What the hell was a human doing this far from Sounkyo in this weather, anyway? _Damn stupid hikers_. Most of them were just city yuppies who thought they could survive the wild with a few survival guides and a cheap tent.

They were usually smart enough to stay out of this part of the forest, though--the land in this particular area was steep, thickly overgrown, and filled with hidden holes, sharp rocks, and other natural dangers. Not even experienced tour guides brought people this way.

That's why he chose to run here.

Although…it really was too late in the season for hikers or campers. The temperatures at night had been dropping below freezing for almost a month. _Huh. Strange.__Too cold for the hikers, and no snow yet for the skiers. _And yet, the blood he smelled was unmistakably human.

He pulled in another whiff of the scent and froze in his second shock of the night. The scent was distinctly female. All alone. And…barely alive. _What the hell!_ His perplexed frown turned to one of unease. Still sifting through scents, he glanced around cautiously, looking for the strange human. His feet followed his nose, moving quickly and silently through the closely grown trees, searching out the endangered female.

Now that he had it, the scent stood out starkly from the more agreeable blend of the various trees and plants crowding this part of the forest. The disturbingly familiar pungency might as well have been a beacon of light calling him through the darkness. Apprehension began to nip at his consciousness, demanding that he hurry.

Atop his head, soft white ears twitched slightly, and his head turned. A small river flowed nearby; he could hear the shallow rush of the water over rocks. The smell was coming from there. It only took him seconds to reach where the trees broke for the river to cut a narrow path through the forest. White and foamy, it swirled against the rocky banks, making everything slick and dangerous.

His gaze cut along the water, searching urgently for the human source of the scent. At first, he didn't see anything unusual, and his eyes narrowed slightly in frustration. Then he spotted her, downstream a bit and smack dab in the center of the flow. He darted out into the current, ignoring the dull pull on his jeans as they soaked through, gritting his teeth as his bare feet actually started to numb. _Shit._ He may as well have been standing in ice.

His brows wrinkled in alarm as he reached her. She was on her side, half-in, half-out of the water, unconscious. She was dammed lucky that the water was shallow. She was even luckier that it had wrapped her body around a slab of stone, the pressure keeping her high enough to breath air instead of liquid. Curving his arms around her limp form, he peeled her away from her salvation and hauled her up.

His teeth snapped together in a grimace. Dammit, her skin was the same temperature as the water. It didn't help that she wasn't wearing anything but a long, thin cotton nightgown. _What the fuck…?_ The thing was soaked and plastered and no protection at all. Long, tangled black hair clumped in a bloody mess around her head, hiding her face from him, but from her weight and curves, she was obviously an adult. He glanced upstream briefly, wondering just how in the hell she had gotten here in only a nightgown.

And then there was the little matter of why she was bleeding and unconscious.

Not that he had time to wonder for too long. She was almost frozen, her heart beating out an alarmingly sluggish rhythm. Hypothermia was undoubtedly setting in, if it hadn't already. Kami only knew how long she'd actually been out here, or how long she'd been in the icy water. He had to get her warm.

He only hesitated for the merest second. Sounkyo was almost thirty minutes away through the mountains. He could probably get there faster than that, but he wasn't sure he could find a doctor right away. Not only was the Sachi just a little closer, but immediate warmth was guaranteed.

He scowled down at the woman in his arms. _Fuck._ She wasn't even shivering. He had to move fast, or she would freeze to death in his arms--hell, she might anyway. Decision made, he took off running as fast as he could, tucking her as close to his body warmth as possible as the freezing wind began to slice around them.

* * *

The lights of the unassuming, multi-winged, two-story inn came into view within fifteen minutes. Far too long for the girl in his arms. He didn't bother to slow down much, and he hit the door at almost full speed, ripping it slightly off its hinges; it banged shut at an angle behind him. Inside, the light was still on, but the decent sized reception room and entryway was empty, the welcome desk to the side deserted.

With a disgusted snort, he strode past the desk and into the first common living room, situated across from the reception area and just in front of the stairs, where he knew a fire would already be blazing. He yelled out roughly, his voice reverberating through the building as he laid the girl down on one of the couches close to the blaze. "Miroku! Get your lazy, perverted ass out here now!"

He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over her barely breathing form, and for a second, his own breath wouldn't come as he thought he was already too late. His fingers pressed against the chill skin of her bare neck, and he caught the faintest throb of a pulse. He blew out a relieved breath, then glanced up with a scowl at the footsteps that were moving quickly through the inn towards the entrance.

A tall, dark-haired man suddenly strode hastily past the open doorway, not glancing around to see the two in the living room. The footsteps stopped suddenly when they reached the entryway, and a glib voice drifted back into the room. "Well, someone was in a hurry, weren't they? I can understand even a hanyou like yourself being cold in this weather, InuYasha...but did you have to ruin the door like that? Now we'll have to secure it somehow before either one of us can sleep tonight. "

His scowl deepened at the dry, complaining tone, and his lip curled in annoyance. "Forget the damn door, Miroku. Just go get Kaede, now. We need help."

"Kaede? She's probably already sleeping." This time his voice sounded surprised, curious. Slippers shuffled against wood, and the dark-haired man appeared in the doorway, hands shoved casually into his pockets. His dark eyes widened as his gaze swept the room, and he straightened, his expression going from mild interest to serious concern. "Who is that?"

"Keh. Hell if I know." InuYasha dropped to his knees next to the drying heap on the couch, and started rubbing her bare arms, trying to massage the cold from her skin. "I found her in the forest, in one of the rivers. She's freezing and she's hurt. We need the old woman--fast."

Miroku gave a grim nod, and disappeared without another word, hurrying back in the direction he'd come.

He frowned down at the girl, wondering if he should try stripping her. Her pale blue nightgown was still soaked through and plastered to her skin, molding over every curve and as transparent as those pointless scarves he sometimes saw tourists wearing. The damn thing was so thin she might as well be naked, anyway. He could see pretty much everything, even with his much thicker jacket now covering her torso.

Her face was still covered by her hair. All he could see was the curve of her chin and a very blue bottom lip. He reached up to brush the hair aside, then paused as his eyes went to the bloody mass of it clumped to the side of her skull.

His hands hovered, trying to decide if it was worth trying to reveal the wound, or if his claws would just cause more damage than she already had. It was a head wound of some kind--although it didn't seem to be bleeding nearly as much as he thought a head wound should. Frowning again, he pulled his hand away, deciding he was more concerned with her body temperature than her injury.

He pushed the hair out of her face. She was angled away from him, and he noted the curves of her profile, the smooth tip of her nose, the absolute paleness of the skin. Her eyelids were overly blue, and her lashes lay in inky black crescents against her cheekbones. He sat back on his heels, feeling both concerned and helpless, willing her to keep breathing. His eyes flicked aimlessly around the room, trying to think of something else to do that might help.

She moaned, a tiny, almost noiseless sound of protest, and shifted slightly. His gaze flew back to her face.

He blinked, feeling his heart stop.

_Impossible._

Yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away from her face. His lip curled, but the growl never made it out of his throat. His mind and senses blanked out, failed him, unable to comprehend what his eyes were telling him. It just wasn't possible. There had to be some other explanation. Of all the things he'd been expecting, it hadn't been this.

He couldn't think. Anger and love, hatred and bitterness, swirled together in his chest in an indecipherable congestion of emotion, choking off his breath. He wasn't sure what to do, so he didn't do anything, just sat staring numbly at the half-alive woman on the couch in front of him.

He was still sitting there when Miroku returned with several dry blankets and the old woman in tow.

* * *

Kaede turned away from the girl lying unconscious on the futon, and focused on the silver-haired hanyou who watched her from the open doorway. "She is very lucky to be alive, InuYasha. Any longer without attention and she would have died." The look in her obsidian eyes grew shrewd. "You saved her life." She started to rise, unbending her knees painfully as she struggled to unfold a body made heavy and unwieldy with age.

With an irritated sigh, he moved into the room and lifted her effortlessly to her feet. She nodded her gray head in dignified thanks and brushed dirt from her skirt. InuYasha didn't even acknowledge her, his amber gaze focused intensely on the futon. Wariness radiated from him, and he watched the girl like one would watch a snake. A confused frown marred his brows.

It wasn't her.

He should have known immediately--after all, there had been nothing familiar in her scent to begin with. Instead, he'd let her face fool him, allowed the shock to paralyze him. Damn, had _that_ been stupid. Then, seconds after the others had returned, so had his fickle senses, and he had done what he should have done to begin with--inhaled, taken in her scent, studied it. Skin, pheromones, blood, hair--every part of her scent screamed at him that this was a different girl.

Scent _never_ lied.

It wasn't her.

Leaning against the doorframe, Miroku bent his dark head curiously, his expression preoccupied as he also stared at the strange girl. "Do you have any idea when she'll wake up, Kaede?"

The old woman shook her head, and sighed tiredly. "The hypothermia was actually a blessing, because it slowed her heart and prevented her from bleeding to death, as she should have from such a serious wound. She'll recover fully, and I doubt there'll be any serious ill effects when she does wake up. However, _when_ she wakes up is entirely up to her."

A tense silence descended upon the room as the three conscious occupants stared at the unconscious one. Kaede's shrewd gaze turned back to the silver-haired, dog-eared male. "The resemblance is remarkable, is it not, InuYasha?"

InuYasha's jaw clenched, and one clawed hand fisted tightly. Then he shook his head, silver hair flying loose from the tie that had been failing to restrain it all evening. "It may look like her, Kaede, but it's not. It took me a few minutes to realize it, but their scents are very different. I don't know who she is, but _I've_ never met her before."

"She doesn't quite look the same, either," Miroku added, shifting to step into the room, moving to stand over the futon, opposite InuYasha, his eyes critically tracing the lines of her face. "Their features are different. Similar enough on first glance, but different on a closer inspection. I'm sure you noticed." His dark violet eyes studied her sharply. "I will be very interested to know who she is and where she came from."

"Perhaps we should be more interested in who tried to kill her."

Two startled gazes, one amber, one deeply violet, turned to stare at the old woman. InuYasha frowned. "What?"

At the same time, from Miroku, "You're sure?"

She nodded calmly, and a wrinkled hand gestured to the futon. "The wound on her head was made by a bullet. This young woman was twice blessed tonight. Had the bullet hit even a little further to the left, she would have died instantly. Instead, it simply grazed her temple."

"Shit!" Golden eyes narrowed, turning back to watch the even rise and fall of the girl's chest. "I didn't hear a gunshot."

Miroku sighed again, and knelt to pick up the pale hand lying on top of the blanket, rubbing the cool fingers with his own. "Not even you would have--if it was silenced and far enough away. Where did you say you found her again?"

A shrug. "In a river, somewhere between here and Sounkyo. I don't know where exactly, but I could probably find it again." He eyed the other man, staring hard at the way his hands stroked the limp one between them. "Watch it, monk. I don't want you touching her while she's unconscious."

Dark eyes widened, managing a perfectly innocent look even as his fingers reached further up the arm. "I am offended that you would even _suggest_ that I would take advantage of a wounded girl in need of help."

"Just because she _might_ be in need of help, doesn't mean that she's _in__need_ of your depraved bullshit." His lip curled, flashing white fangs, and he stepped forward. "I won't warn you again."

The slim hand was instantly dropped back onto the thick coverlet as his hands rose in a gesture of surrender. He sat back, his features as smooth as his tone. "You needn't worry. I assure you, I will not touch our beautiful young charge in any way whilst she is defenseless."

InuYasha snorted, rolling his eyes.

Kaede sent a reproving look at the hanyou from the wrinkled corner of one eye. "Perhaps you would do well to ask him what his definition of defenseless is, InuYasha."

Miroku sighed, glancing unhappily at the old woman. "Thank you, Kaede, for your faith in me."

"Keh. I don't care what his definition of defenseless is. I'm not leaving her side until she wakes up. I want to know who she is, and what she's doing here, and I'm not leaving her alone until I find out."

"I believe her name is Kagome."

Once again, two pairs of startled eyes--one golden, one purple--slashed to the old woman as she pulled a thick, woolen wrap around her shoulders in preparation to go out into the cold. InuYasha frowned impatiently. "What the hell, you old bag--did you suddenly develop psychic powers, too?"

The look she sent him was resigned, if slightly exasperated. "You know very well the extent of my powers. I am surprised, InuYasha, that with all your enhanced senses, you have yet to notice the girl's necklace."

"Necklace?" Both men turned to look at the girl. Sure enough, a long, thin silver chain drew a delicate line across her neck. Whatever charm was attached to it had pulled the chain taught on her skin, and the majority of its length was hidden beneath her hair. Kneeling down beside her, InuYasha reached out and used a claw to pull the chain from the tangles. It came loose raggedly, pulling several strands of black silk with it, and hung from the tip of his claw, glistening in the light from the fire. It was a miracle she hadn't lost the damn thing in the river.

The charm was small, no bigger than the pad of his thumb. Worked in thin, delicate lines of silver were the characters of a word. InuYasha mouthed the sounds to himself. Ka. Go. Me. He glanced back at Kaede doubtfully. "You think this is her _name_?"

One gray eyebrow lifted slowly. "What else could it signify, that she would wear it around her throat in such a manner?"

He stared at her for a moment, then turned away with a careless shrug. "Keh. Whatever. It's better than nothin' until she tells us her real name, I guess."

A long-suffering sigh was heard from the old woman. "There is nothing more I can do for the girl tonight. It is late, and this weary old body can't take as much as it used to. If one of you wouldn't mind…" She looked pointedly at Miroku.

He blinked, then darted a glance across the girl-filled futon at InuYasha. One black brow quirked back sarcastically. "Tch. If you think I'm leaving _you_ alone with _her_," he pointed down between them, "then you don't know me that well."

Miroku let his gaze drift from the unrelenting hanyou, to the old woman who stood watching him expectantly, and back again. Then he sighed, climbing reluctantly to his feet, and walking over to take Kaede's arm. "I don't see why I have to go out in the freezing night when you and your hanyou senses would barely feel the cold."

Golden eyes rolled. "Quit complaining, monk. It's only around the back."

"It's a five minute walk down a deserted mountain path in below freezing temperatures," Miroku corrected him. "I'm only human. I _could_ freeze to death in ten minutes, you know."

InuYasha's reply was an irritated scowl. "Then hurry up a do it, would ya? Maybe you'll stop complaining if you're dead."

The dark-haired man responded with a roll of his own eyes as he led the old woman out of the living room. "You see the lack of appreciation I get around here? My skills are truly wasted in such an environment. Why, with the right…"

InuYasha got up and slid the door shut, muffling his friend's words. He wasn't in the mood for his ridiculous wit. Slowly, drawing a deep breath, he turned and walked back over to the female laid out on futon in front of the fire. Kaede had decided that it wouldn't be wise to move her, so they'd brought down some bedding and shifted her on top of it, moving her closer to the fire to warm her.

His eyes outlined her features. So familiar, yet so strange. His mind was only just beginning to grasp the differences, even though he realized his instincts had taken in and accepted them from almost that first whiff back in the forest. If they hadn't, he wouldn't have been so godsdammed useless when saw her face--he would have been expecting the familiar features instead of being paralyzed by them.

The more he studied her, the less they looked identical. Her color was starting to return, and the hue of her skin was warming, gaining tone as the blood returned to its normal flow within her body. She wouldn't be so pale come morning. Her nose was smaller, a little rounder, and not so elegant; her cheeks weren't so hollow, and the shape of her eyes was a little off. Her mouth was different, a little fuller, not as thin or firm. A wry, bitter smile twisted his lips. He should know, shouldn't he?

Her body was slimmer, too--not as tall, not as full. Close, but not quite the same. No, this girl was someone he'd never met before, someone whose body just happened to mirror someone he used to know…someone he used to know well.

The only thing he hadn't been able to check yet was her eyes.

Of course, he didn't believe in coincidence, and he didn't trust her, period. He sat upright, crossing his legs and folding his arms as he watched her breathe. _Something_ had happened to her, and at best, that something meant trouble.

He didn't want any more trouble. He'd had enough trouble to last him a fucking lifetime. All he wanted was to be left alone. But if he had to deal with trouble, then he wanted to know just what the hell kind of form that trouble would take.

Her face was so peaceful, her brows relaxed, her features slack. It made him wonder what she looked like when she was awake and aware. Did she have worries? He snorted at himself, his eyes going to the thick white bandage around her head. Did she _know_ she was in trouble? If she hadn't before, she sure as hell did now. A hint of sympathy surfaced, and he squelched it ruthlessly, reminding himself that she was probably up to her pretty pale neck in whatever had almost gotten her killed.

He didn't believe in innocent bystanders anymore.

She moaned and shifted, turning slightly on her back. The blanket fell away, and the fire shone through the thin cotton of the t-shirt that had replaced the sopping mess of her nightgown, revealing the soft mound of one breast almost as clearly as the previous garment had. He blinked, staring dumbly. Then he reached out and tugged the blanket back over her, carefully tucking it around her so it wouldn't fall loose again.

Yeah. That was different, too.

But not too different. Sighing, he moved away, and set his back against the couch, settling himself in for the night. He'd stay and watch, and he'd be here when she woke up. He wanted answers, and she was the only one who could give them to him.

Miroku returned fifteen minutes later. He could hear the monk approach, then hesitate upon finding the door closed. He heard a sigh, then the door slid open slightly, and Miroku's dark head poked through the gap, staring at him with rare earnestness. The firelight glinted off the double golden circlets in his left earlobe.

InuYasha spared him a glance. "What?"

More hesitation. "You're…ok with this? We don't know how long she'll have to stay."

His jaw clenched at the question, and his hands tightened their grip on his biceps, but he just shrugged. "What the hell else can we do? She can't be moved, and we don't know anything about her. Even if we did try and ask around in Sounkyo, someone in the area tried to kill her, and until we know who, we can't just hand her over to some stranger."

Another silence. "And, assuming the police are not an option we want to consider at the moment…" he ignored the hanyou's sarcastic "Keh", "…shall I call him?"

_That_ question was worthy of bringing a snarl to his lips--low, angry, and threatening. "We _don't_ need to go running to him every time something unusual happens. We'll wait until she wakes up and see what she has to say before we do anything else. Until then, don't even mention that bastard's name to me."

Miroku sighed. "I thought that's what you'd say. You could at least _try_ talking to him, you know."

Golden eyes slashed once again to the door, smoldering dangerously. "If you don't have anything useful to say, monk, then leave me the fuck alone."

Dark eyebrows shot up, unimpressed. "Fine. Sulk for the rest of your life, if you want. I'm sure you'll be very happy that way." He started to turn away from the door, but stopped, and looked back. "You're not the only one who suffered, you know. I wasn't as close as you were, but the end result was the same for both of us. The difference is that _I_ have chosen to make the best of what I've got."

He snorted. "How--by groping at every pretty girl you see?"

"No. I was born doing that." A pause. "I simply refuse to waste my life. You don't see _me_ engaging in endless bouts of brooding, do you?"

His voice growled low, dangerously harsh, warning his friend as best he knew how that either this subject was at an end, or his life was.

Miroku sighed again. "Oh well. You can't say I never tried." His eyes slid over the futon where their mysterious visitor rested, firelight glinting off her skin and hair. "Happy watching." The door slid shut behind him, but his last mumbled comment drifted through anyway. "And they call _me_ a pervert."

He didn't even bother to scowl. His gaze went back to the girl…focused back on Kagome. She sighed quietly. His brow puckered, considering the name. Kagome. Yeah, he decided. The old woman was right. She looked like a Kagome. The name just seemed to fit, somehow.

He blinked and redirected his thoughts with a shake of his head. Well…_Kagome_ had some questions to answer. Yes. He would just wait here until she had the decency to show him what color her eyes were.

* * *

The darkness was a sucking mass of gaseous fluid, holding her down so that she couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't measure, couldn't feel. It was numbing, both cold and hot at the same time, giving the occasional illusion of warmth and comfort. Yet, she was content here, blissfully unaware of the outside world, of all the pain and torment it could bring. Eternally satisfied in the blank, pitch security of absolute nothingness.

But then the blackness began to seep away. The insulating security of unawareness slunk off gradually, like the slow, sick deflation of a punctured balloon that can no longer float.

And as the blackness faded, it left a void. Into that void rushed the pain. It ripped through her brain, through her very soul, and tore the breath from her lungs as she began to run.

Run, run, run…don't stop, don't let the pain stop you, you have to keep running…._you promised you'd keep running_….

* * *

The first thing she was aware of was the dull red glow. It was everywhere. Everywhere she looked, nothing but red. She started to panic--until about three seconds later, when she realized that her eyes were closed, and the red glow was nothing more than light shining through her eyelids. _Whew_.

Instantly on the heels of that realization came the pain, sharp and brutal, throbbing through her skull, and making the red light of her eyelids pulse, and her stomach twist sickeningly. _Dammit._ Oh, that hurt. Everything hurt, now that she thought of it, but it was her head that was killing her. A moan sounded somewhere, and her throat vibrated, making the pain worse.

"Did you hear that? I think she's waking up."

A voice_. Tenor,_ she decided._ Soothing._

"Keh. It's about fucking time. How long can one person sleep, anyway?"

Another, this one deeper and rough-toned. _Almost like a smoker, but…better somehow_. The coarseness of this voice caught her attention with it's substance, with it's almost physical presence. This voice held the power to touch.

"She wasn't sleeping, she was unconscious--there's a difference. Besides, you're just jealous because with all the time you spent watching her, I'm still the one who noticed it first."

Who were they? Why were they here? _Come to think of it…where _**is**_ here?_

"Don't you have some books to balance, monk?"

"My father always taught me never to put work before a beautiful lady."

A smile. She wanted to smile. They bickered like siblings. Or best friends. Nothing hostile or serious in the insults of their words. Just some very deeply buried affection.

"Keh. Your father was such a pervert you're lucky your mother stuck around long enough for you to be born!"

Very deeply buried.

She moaned again, this time intently, cautiously, because the pain in her head was starting to ebb.

"Look, InuYasha. Your yelling is causing the poor, lovely thing pain. Here, why don't I --"

"Touch her again, and I kill you on principal."

Her eyelids felt about a million tons too heavy. But she wanted to open them. Curiosity demanded that she open them, despite the pain in her head. She wanted to see those voices. Especially the scratchy one, the one that brushed across her skin, the feeling soft rather than abrasive, tugging at her consciousness. She wanted to reach out and grasp that voice.

Taking a deep, even breath, she willed her lids up. For a second, she thought they were sealed shut. Then they cracked open, and light seared onto her eyeballs.

Not a good thing for a vicious, vindictive migraine.

She shut them immediately with a whimper. "The light…" She was surprised at how dry and cottony her mouth felt. She didn't usually have to peel her mouth open to talk. "Please,"--and was her voice usually this garbled?--"the light hurts my eyes."

A quiet curse, some shuffling, and the sound of metal sliding on metal. The red on her eyelids receded significantly. She braved the great eyelid separation once again, and this time, though it hurt a little, she could keep them open. Now….how to focus?

A figure moved into her line of sight, and she suddenly had no problems focusing. She blinked slowly, then made her eyes as wide as she could, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

Long, free-flowing silver hair. An interesting face, attractive in an almost-but-not-quite pretty sort of way. Incredible golden eyes that peered intently at her, some incomprehensible emotion hidden within. And….two of the most adorable, velvety white animal (_Dog? Cat?)_ ears twisting anxiously on the top of his head.

_Are those real? _Were they real? They looked real, they moved realistically. _Oh, please let them be real._

"InuYasha, move out of the way. Stop crowding the poor child."

She watched with hazy fascination as his features twisted into a scowl, and he looked behind him at the new voice. "What the hell are you doing, old woman?"

"I am treating her, InuYasha. Is that not what you wish for me to do?" The face that came into view as he left looked just the way it sounded--squareish, with wrinkles everywhere, a kind, gentle demeanor, and wise old eyes. "How do you feel, child? You had us worried for a while, but it appears my first conclusion was correct. You seem well enough."

She drew a deep breath before hauling herself painfully into a sitting position, wincing at the heaviness of her limbs, swaying slightly with dizziness at the change in position. She felt a trembling hand on her back, steadying her while she got her bearings. "My…head hurts."

The kindly wrinkles nodded, and the cool rim of a cup pressed against her lips. She tasted water and sipped gratefully, relieved to have something soothing her mouth and throat so they didn't stick so much. Slowly, she drank the whole cup, despite its slightly bitter taste. By the time she was done, she felt much better. Even her headache had dulled.

She looked around, moving carefully as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. It was a small room, square, with wooden floors, and curtains drawn over the windows. Not very much in here--she was on a futon in the center of the floor, a couple of mats and pillows piled in one corner, and a low table off to the side. She could feel the warmth of a small fire blazing somewhere behind her. That was it.

The door was sliding rice paper. Another man stood just inside the open doorway--tall and dark, handsome in a more traditional way--dressed all in black, save for his deep purple sweater. Somehow, she knew this was the other voice, the smooth one.

She located the rough-voiced one, sitting off to the side. It was easy, because she could feel his eyes trained on her, like some sort of heated laser on her skin. He was dressed even more casually than the first voice, in faded jeans and a pullover. He sat cross-legged and barefoot, and he stared at her unnervingly.

The deep amber of his eyes connected with hers. The air hummed.

Her breath hitched, and she blinked.

He blinked back, then scowled and stood fluidly, turning his back on her. She followed his movements, puzzled by his actions. "Where…where am I?" Oh good, her voice sounded much better now, much more like herself.

He was facing away from her now, but his ears twitched at her voice. His head turned, almost of its own accord, and his eyes returned to hers. His expression was disgruntled, almost grudging. "Keh." He didn't answer her question.

"You are in a room in the Sachi Inn, near Sounkyo." The kindly wrinkles drew her attention reluctantly away from those magnetic golden eyes. "InuYasha found you in the woods almost a week ago, bleeding and nearly frozen to death. He brought you here, and we were able to save you. You're lucky to be alive, child."

"Bleeding?" For the first time, she was aware of the substance wrapped tightly around her forehead, and her hand went to the thickest lump over her temple. She pressed against it gently, and winced at the soreness of the flesh underneath the bandage. "Why was I bleeding?"

"We were hoping you could tell us that." The tenor voice stepped forward, his eyes as kind as his words--and surprisingly, a great match for his sweater.

He sketched a short bow. "I am Daishi Miroku. I am the manager here at the Sachi. The old woman next to you is simply called Kaede. And Kasahara InuYasha," he gestured towards the golden-eyed man, who scowled at him, "is the owner, and our employer. Please don't take offense at him. He's our resident grouch. His bark is literally worse than his bite." He seemed to find this comment amusing, but the dog-eared one didn't. A snarl curled his top lip upward, revealing a set of fangs.

She blinked, trying not to stare. "Ok…" Then it hit her. "Oh! You're a youkai?"

He dropped his snarl to stare warily at her. Miroku shifted forward once again, drawing her gaze. "InuYasha is a hanyou, yes."

"Ah." Only half-demon, then. Still, he possessed quite a bit of youki…right?

She frowned lightly. Now how…

"So?"

She looked back up at InuYasha. He had snapped at her, but his eyes didn't look at her with anger, even if he was trying to glare. Instead, they looked…disconcerted. She blinked again, confused. "What?"

His eyes narrowed. "Tell us who you are and what happened to you."

She sighed. "Oh. I…" She drifted off. Her frown returned, confused this time, as she attempted to sift through the jumble of pain and swirling thoughts in her head. She gave the group of strangers a hesitating look. "You don't…_know_ who I am?" She could hear the agitation creeping through her voice.

The old woman beside her shifted forward, looking concerned. "Child, none of us has ever met you before you came here."

"Oh…" She closed her eyes, and reached into her mind again, searching desperately, but her brain still refused to release the necessary information. Her brow wrinkled. Something was incredibly wrong. All she could find was blankness, an empty void where information should have been. She swallowed. This wasn't right. She…she had a name, a life. She knew she did.

_Didn't she?_

Her eyes opened, and she looked up, connecting pleadingly with the molten gaze she found both the most comforting and the most hostile. "But…" She could feel the desperation starting, rapidly melting into panic. "You _have_ to know who I am…because I…_don't_."

* * *


	3. Trial Solutions

Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha…yada, yada, yada…Takahashi does…etcetera and so forth….And if you sue me, you'll get bubkiss, didley squat, and zilch in the deepest sense of the word, because I'm flat broke, _and_ dreadfully ugly. It's just not worth it, you know? But please enjoy the story--that might just be worth reading…I hope.

* * *

CHAPTER 2

* * *

Irritatingly, at first all he could do was stare at her--the same idiotic staring game he'd been playing almost constantly for the past five days. The same thought kept running around in his head, stuck on repeat since the moment she'd opened her eyes. He'd been watching her move, talk, and interact with the others--hell, he'd even _spoken_ to her. And the whole time he'd been thinking only one thing.

Her eyes were gray.

Damn, but that surprised him more than it should have. It was jarring to see such light eyes in a face that looked so familiar. He'd really expected her eyes to be brown--deep, dark, and coolly concealed. Instead, her eyes were light, smoky, translucent, filled with warmth and uninhibited emotion. They stared at him as if they expected him to do something, which had him at a slight loss._ Do what, dammit?_

Even so, for some incomprehensible reason, he was relieved. So relieved that it took him a few moments to absorb what she'd just said to him. In the stunned silence that followed her statement, her meaning finally hit him, and his mind snapped back into focus. Then he was staring at her again…in disbelief. "What the hell do you mean, you _don't know_?"

She looked as if she was having as a hard a time believing herself as he was believing her. "I…" Her fingers trembled around her forehead. "I can't remember anything. I don't know how I got here--I can't even tell you my…name. My head is…there's something wrong." A tiny frown formed in the space between her eyebrows, and her hands settled onto her forehead, gripping tightly as if to combat pain. "I don't understand."

InuYasha's eyes narrowed and he exchanged a startled glance with Miroku before he turned a glare on her. "You mean to tell me that you don't remember anything--nothing at all?" She just stared at him blankly. "But…you have to remember something--" he glanced back at his manager, "--she has to remember _something_, doesn't she?"

Miroku shrugged, then fixed serious violet eyes on the girl on the futon. "Kaede told you that we're near Sounkyo. Does the name sound familiar at all?"

She blinked slowly, her smoky eyes staring with intense, if hazy, concentration at her questioner. "Sounkyo is…" Her voice had grown thick, her words more carefully pronounced, "…that's in Hokkaido, isn't it?" She paused. "But what am I doing in Hokkaido?"

InuYasha frowned, his eyes narrowing sharply. Was it his imagination, or was she having a hard time focusing her eyes?

Miroku stroked his fingers along his chin. "Where do you think you _should_ be?"

"Uh…" Her eyes pressed tightly closed for a long moment, then drifted back up. "I'm not…sure."

"Do you know what country we're in?"

She blinked again, the palm on her forehead starting to massage absently. "Japan?" Somewhere deep inside, InuYasha felt himself tense. She suddenly looked…extremely drained.

Miroku's brow wrinkled, as he paused again, staring at her without really seeing her. "Hmm. It appears that you haven't lost all of your memories. I wonder…" He looked over at Kaede. "Kaede. Is it possible that her head injury could have caused this?"

The older woman didn't move from her critical inspection of the girl in front of her. "That is most likely. Head trauma has been known to cause certain types of amnesia. The severe hypothermia could also have contributed."

Kagome's hand dropped away from her forehead. Her body suddenly swayed where she sat. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she began to fall over.

"Watch out!" InuYasha was beside her instantly, catching her before her head could hit the hardwood floor. She lay like dead weight in his arms, obviously unconscious, but breathing evenly. He frowned, then turned to glare at Kaede. "What the hell happened?"

Kaede leaned forward and laid a hand against her the girl's forehead. She frowned, and checked her pulse, then her eyes. She 'hmm'd', then glanced calmly at the hanyou across from her. "You can release her now, InuYasha. She is fine. I believe she just overexerted herself. Her injuries and her sleep have weakened her body."

He blinked, almost surprised to find that his hands gripped her so tightly, then lay her carefully--but quickly--back against the futon. "Is that normal?"

"It is not unheard of. It will only be of concern if she ceases to improve. We'll watch her closely for the next few days. She should recover quickly."

Miroku stepped forward, concerned. "And her memory?"

"That I cannot say. I know very little of the workings of the mind itself. It may be that her memory will return to her little by little as time passes. It may never return at all." Kaede looked knowingly at them, encompassing both in her glance. "It may be that she does not wish to remember whatever it is that brought her here. Trauma comes in many forms other than physical."

InuYasha let his gaze drift back to the girl, grim lines bracketing his mouth, but he didn't reply. Miroku seemed of the same mind, and silence descended over the room. Kaede watched them carefully, then turned back to Kagome, dismissing them both. "Now if you two don't mind leaving the room, I would like to conduct a more thorough examination of our young guest."

Sharing a reluctant glance with Miroku, InuYasha got to his feet, and exited the room, his manager right on his heels. The door scraped softly as it slid shut behind them.

They walked down the hallway, away from the spare back room they'd moved the girl to several days ago. Miroku kept his mouth shut only long enough for them to be out of earshot. "Well? Do we believe her?"

His jaw clenched, and he stopped in the middle of the hallway. His arms crossed and he slouched against the wall, his fingers strumming restlessly against a bicep, his gaze fixed steadily on the floor. "She wasn't lying, not that I could tell. Her scent never changed. She was just really confused, and…scared." Something twinged uncomfortably in his gut, and his brows tensed, lowering slightly. "But hell if I know whether to believe her or not." He shifted, frustrated. "Tch. Damn, this is a bad situation. What the hell are we supposed to do with some strange girl?"

Miroku gave him a measuring look. "We could just try dropping her off at the nearest hospital and letting them handle her."

He scowled, not liking the suggestion at all. "And just let whoever took a shot at her find her again? Besides, if we were going to do that, we should have done it _before_ we told her who we were and where we are. Either way, letting someone else deal with her now would have the police knocking at our door."

Miroku joined him in his lounge against the wall. "There is a possibility that it was just random, you know--some hunter in the forest who saw something move and thought it was worth trying for."

InuYasha snorted skeptically. "And _she_ was just out in below freezing temperatures, enjoying the scenery in one of the most dangerous areas around here? In her _nightgown_?"

His friend sighed, letting his head smack gently back against the wall. "I suppose not. No helping it, then. She'll stay here, and we'll watch her to see if she regains her memory. I can try and check up on her, but without any indication of who she is, or where she came from, it's not likely that I'll find anything."

He didn't respond, just continued to stare at the floor.

"This _could_ turn out to be a good thing, you know." The monk's tone had gone from reluctant to speculative--which meant that he was probably thinking of ways to turn the situation to his advantage. "We could put her to work in exchange for room and board--offer her a job, so to speak. It's a good way to keep an eye on her--and Kaede is getting old. Cleaning this place is harder for her than it used to be. It would make her life easier to have a helper around."

InuYasha rolled his eyes. "Keh." Kaede had been old _before_ they had taken over the Sachi. It would just make _Miroku's_ life easier not to have to scrub floors in the arthritic old hag's stead. "Whatever."

"Perhaps our lovely young Kagome will be able to cook as well." Now Miroku sounded positively enthusiastic. He fought another snort. It always amazed him how quickly the monk could talk himself into anything that might possibly be to his advantage.

Miroku's gaze suddenly turned serious as he studied his friend once again. "You sure you don't have a problem with this? After all, she does look awfully similar to…"

"It's fine." His voice was clipped, cutting off whatever else Miroku would have said.

"It won't bother you, seeing her every day?"

He scowled. "I said leave it alone, didn't I?"

Miroku hesitated, then shrugged.

A burst of laughter broke their silence, coming from the direction of the first living room. His ears perked, then twitched, trying to catch the words of the voices that cooed in admiration. He glanced at Miroku inquiringly.

He smiled back, nodding in the direction of the room. "He's been keeping them entertained since our beautiful visitor started showing signs of waking. He's very popular with the guests--especially the Americans. They love his little tricks." Another peal of laughter punctuated his words. "And he loves the attention."

Surprise lightened his features briefly "So the brat actually knows how to be useful, huh?"

"He wouldn't be with us if he wasn't useful." Miroku suddenly snapped his fingers, smirking. "I know. Maybe she was meeting a lover. That's why she was in her nightgown."

InuYasha blinked, then turned his head away. "No. She wasn't." He negated the option flatly, automatically, almost without thought.

Black brows raised in surprise. "And you're so sure because…"

InuYasha's scowl blackened, and he pushed away from the wall, deciding he could probably find something better to do than stand here and talk to an imbecile.

Realization slid over Miroku's features as he watched his friend storm away. "Because that's something you would know, isn't it? Ahhhh…" A pause, then quietly. "And you said her appearance didn't bother you."

Gritting his teeth, he decided to pretend he hadn't heard.

* * *

The next time she woke up was a much less distressing experience for her. She became aware gradually, slowly realizing that she was laying flat on her back, and that her eyes were closed. It took her another moment to remember why. _That's right…I was injured. _She blinked slowly. _And that man--hanyou…InuYasha…._

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, she took stock.

She felt much better this time--slightly groggy, but the pain was easily manageable. Her head barely ached, and the light streaming in through the open curtains didn't attempt to burn her eyes from her head when she opened them. She was in the same room as before, but none of the previous strangers was in sight. Hostile amber eyes flashed through her mind, and she sighed, wondering where everyone had gone. And what she was supposed to do now.

Well, she wouldn't find out anything by just laying here.

Gathering herself, she attempted to sit up. Her limbs were extremely heavy, though, and difficult to move. With a little effort, she managed to lift herself up slightly, propping her body up on her elbows…

…and found herself looking directly into a pair of big, pale green eyes that stared at her curiously.

She blinked. The green eyes didn't disappear, only widened slightly so that they dominated the young face they belonged to. Bright, burnt orange hair framed innocent features, most of it tied back by a single, loosely held bow. It was a small child--a boy--who couldn't have been more than five or six years old.

He sat--or clung, as it seemed--on her chest, but he perched so lightly that she'd barely felt him. She blinked again. This wasn't a face she knew…she didn't think. "Um…hello?" She noted with relief that while her throat sounded and felt uncomfortably scratchy, it was nowhere near the garble that it had been the last time she'd awaken.

The small mouth opened wide and drew in a deep breath, showing tiny pointed teeth, before exhaling dramatically. "Well it's about time. I've been watching for almost two hours now, and you haven't moved a muscle since I got here. Kaede didn't even ask me to watch you until after lunch, and you woke up first thing this morning, so you've been out for a long time." He frowned to himself. "Of course, before that you were out for five whole _days_, so I guess this is an improvement."

He leaned forward to study her critically, then, with a satisfied nod, he allowed himself to slide backwards onto her lap. "You _look_ a lot better, anyway."

Taking that as a cue, she gingerly pushed herself into a sitting position. He looked up at her from her lap, and she was surprised to spot a tail--fluffy, blond, and almost as big as his whole body. "I'm Shippo. I live out back with old Kaede, and I'm a very important part of the staff here at the Sachi." He nodded again, his self-important manner prompting a small smile to curve her lips.

She took in the pointed ears and the delicate-looking paws that stuck out of his long blue pants before nodding uncertainly. "I am…" She trailed off in dismay, biting her lip. The wall of blankness remained in her mind, blocking her attempts to grasp something familiar. It was incredibly disconcerting to reach for something as simple as a name and come up with…nothing.

Shippo settled comfortably onto her lap, crossing both his arms and legs. "It's ok. I know you don't remember anything, so you don't have to worry about introducing yourself. We've just been calling you Kagome, 'cause of the necklace you're wearing."

Her brow furrowed lightly. "Necklace?" Her fingers drifted up to her neck, finding the thin chain, and stroking the characters hanging from them, the light pressure of the metal on her skin reassuring. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted a small sense of relief at finding the charm, and the calming effect it seemed to have on her spirit. Her fingers curled around the delicate silver, grasping firmly--almost of their own accord--and she wondered if the charm held any special significance to her.

"Kagome?" She said it aloud, testing the name. Then she nodded to herself, surprisingly content with the way it sounded. "Alright." She bowed her head to the little youkai on her lap. "I'm Kagome. I am pleased to meet you, Shippo."

Shippo nodded his head in return. "Welcome to the Sachi Inn, Kagome. You'll feel better in no time here." He cocked his head. "I'm sure you've noticed that I'm a youkai. I'm a kitsune, full-blooded--unlike InuYasha, who's only half. He owns the Sachi, though, so he gets to boss me around a lot."

The mention of her wayward savior caught her attention, and she murmured quietly. "InuYasha…" His restless amber gaze touched her thoughts again. She blinked, then refocused on the little one on her lap.

"But don't worry--InuYasha's still really strong, even though he's only a hanyou. So is Miroku--just don't let his idiotic behavior around women fool you. And you had better be careful around him. Miroku likes to grab women's--"

"Are you finally awake, child? I was beginning to worry again." A familiar, weathered old voice cut in on Shippo's informative speech, drawing the attention of both to the open door, and the old woman who stood behind it. Dark eyes watched her with compassion, and her old face wrinkled in a smile. "And how are you feeling?"

"I'm…" She considered for a moment. "I'm feeling much better, thank you…" She hesitated, then ventured cautiously, "…Kaede?"

The older woman stepped into the room, but her slight nod was enough to assure Kagome that she'd remembered correctly. She drew in a deep breath and sighed as the older woman knelt by the futon, and reached for a pitcher sitting nearby on the floor. Kagome glanced at it in surprise, but gratefully accepted the cup of water Kaede handed her, sipping at the lukewarm liquid.

Kaede's gaze ran over her probingly as she drank, making a visual check on her posture, the way she moved, and the bandage on her head. "Do you feel stronger, this time, child? No dizziness or weakness? Does your head still pain you?"

Kagome lowered the cup, resting it on her thigh as she thought. "Well…my thoughts are clearer, and I don't feel so confused. I still feel weak, though--I have to force my body to do what I want it to do." Her free hand went to her temple. "And my head aches…but only a little."

Kaede nodded. "It seems you are progressing quite nicely." She struggled to her feet. "I will bring you some soup. Your body has gone too long without food, and the nourishment will aid in your healing."

Kagome shifted, causing Shippo jumped back as she slipped her legs out from under the blanket. "Please, let me help." She managed to get to her feet, but swayed dangerously as her blood immediately rushed through her body. For a moment, her vision fogged. Her hand went to her forehead and she took an unsteady half-step back. "Oh…"

Kaede's hands were suddenly at her shoulders, supporting her as she helped her sit back down on the futon. Kagome blinked, then stared up in dismay, but Kaede only shook her head. "You must not try to do too much too soon. Only a week ago, you came very close to death . It will take some time before you are fully recovered."

Kagome sighed, then nodded, watching the older woman make her way out of the room, wishing she didn't feel so helpless. At the door, she paused, and turned to cast an amused look over her shoulder. "I think perhaps I'll bring you a spare yukata as well. After you eat may be a better time to try moving around a little, and if you really wish to leave the room, you're going to want to be wearing more than that."

Then she vanished in an easy shuffle down the hall.

Frowning, Kagome glanced down at _that_. A plain white t-shirt. A plain white t-shirt that draped over her body and covered a good portion of her thighs, yes…but the thin cotton clung revealingly, making it obvious to even the most casual observer that she wore _nothing_ underneath. She shrieked, startling poor Shippo, and scrambled back under the thick covering, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

"H-how did I get in a…" She stopped, realizing how ridiculous the question was, considering that she didn't have the faintest clue what she'd been wearing before--if anything at all. It was an issue she had no desire to explore at the moment. "Never mind." She looked down at Shippo. "I haven't met you before, have I?"

Shippo clambered back to a comfortable spot on her lap. "No, I was already sleeping the night you got here, and I wasn't here when you finally woke up this morning. But I've been helping old Kaede take care of you since the morning after InuYasha found you." He paused, his brow furrowing. "InuYasha stayed the whole time. He refused to leave the room until after you passed out again this morning…I think maybe he was worried about you."

The last part gave her body a slight jolt, a tiny current that twisted briefly inside her chest and belly. He'd been…watching her? She stared at Shippo, not sure what to think. "O-oh…"

He stared back, green eyes wide. "You know, I don't think InuYasha and Miroku know what to do with you. They've been talking about it on and off all day--until InuYasha gets fed up with Miroku and storms off." His hand stroked at his chin. "But that's just normal for around here. They've known each other a long time, and Miroku is good at getting under InuYasha's skin."

He frowned thoughtfully at her. "I wonder what they'll decide. You're already getting better, so taking you to the hospital is pointless; and you don't have your memories, so they can't help you find your family or friends. And it's not like InuYasha can just put you back where he found you." He paused, then added as an afterthought, "They won't even go to the police, beca--"

A small clay cup smacked into the side of Shippo's head, knocking him off her lap. Kagome started in shock. She reached out to see if he was all right, but he rebounded instantly, whirling on soft paws to glare at the door, tiny fists clenched. "What was that for?!"

Kagome followed his gaze to find the man with the smooth voice--Miroku, he'd said--standing in the doorway, a tray cradled between his left hand and his body. He was smiling sheepishly. "Ah, gomen, gomen, Shippo. It slipped. You know how it is." He waved his right hand in a placating gesture.

Shippo rubbed at his head, glaring suspiciously at the other man's hand. "It sure slipped hard for something that came from your _weakest_ hand."

Miroku just shrugged and stepped into the room, settling onto his knees on the floor beside Kagome, while Shippo retrieved the cup and set it by the water pitcher. "Anyway, Shippo, you shouldn't be worrying the poor girl about what will happen tomorrow while she's still trying to recover today." He set the tray down, and she saw that it held a bowl of soup and a small portion of rice.

He smiled at her. "From Kaede. She told me to tell you to eat as much as you can and she'll be along shortly with a yukata. My apologies about the t-shirt--we should have thought to put on something more substantial, but at the time, your health was more important than your modesty."

Kagome colored slightly, but shook her head. "No, please, it's fine." She accepted the bowl with a little bow. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, for being such an inconvenience to you. For all your kindness and generosity in taking care of me, arigato."

Again, his right hand waved in the air dismissively. "Not at all. It's our pleasure to have such a beautiful young woman staying with us." A pale flash of white on the inside of the hand caught her attention. She blinked, and found herself focusing on a small circle of raised tissue in the center of his palm. Her eyes widened slightly. _What an interesting scar…._

Miroku noticed her scrutiny, and a brief, almost non-existent hesitation stalled him. Then he lowered his hand, palm outward so she could see more clearly.

"Strange-looking, isn't it?" His friendly tone didn't change as he spoke. "It's an old injury. An accident, I'm afraid--my fault." He rotated his hand so she could see the same circular tissue marring the skin on the other side. "It caused some permanent nerve damage, so now I can't use my right hand as well as I once could. See?" He wiggled his fingers, demonstrating the slight stiffness of the digits, and his inability to straighten his hand out completely.

Kagome flushed again, sympathy for the old wound rising to mix with the embarrassment she felt at being caught staring so rudely. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean….That's terrible."

He smiled again, the deep violet of his eyes was clear and unperturbed. He had a nice, ready smile--Kagome found it very comforting. "Don't be. It happened a long time ago, and I'm used to it now. It's not so great an inconvenience." He gestured to the bowl. "Please, eat."

Carefully, she complied, bringing the bowl to her mouth. The warm liquid was good--slightly salty--and the seasoned trickle felt good against her underused throat. She breathed a mental sigh of relief when her stomach didn't object.

Miroku tilted his head, his speculative gaze never leaving her face. "It's heartening to see you up and around. You weren't exactly in the best of shapes when you arrived." He paused. "Have you been able to recall anything about what happened to you yet?"

A sharp pang ran through her, and she hesitated, then slowly lowered the bowl onto the blanket covering her lap. "I…I remember waking up here, and meeting all of you, but…"

Her eyes closed, and once again, she strained, struggling to find something--_anything_--that she could tell them; but her mind remained stubborn, refusing to relinquish any details. She shook her head, and her eyes slid open to stare at the half-empty bowl, whatever appetite she'd had vanished. "I'm sorry. I just don't…_know_." Frustration laced through her tone.

The weight of her situation suddenly hit her--hard. She had no money that she knew of, no friends or family that she remembered…not even the clothes on her back belonged to her. She couldn't intrude here forever--yet she had nowhere else to go, and only the patience and generosity of strangers to support her. Panic rose like bile in her throat, producing a bad aftertaste and a thick ache that promised tears. Her fingers tightened reflexively around the bowl.

Just what in the world was she supposed to do?

From his place near her feet, Shippo stared at her miserable expression. After a moment, he moved forward, scooting close to her side and reaching out a small hand to pat reassuringly on her thigh. Surprised, she glanced down at his solemn gaze. "It's ok, Kagome. You don't have to remember."

Miroku shifted, his hands fisting on his knees, the look on his face repentant. "Indeed. My apologies Miss Kagome. I didn't mean to cause you distress. Please don't feel that it's necessary to push yourself. You shouldn't worry so much about your current situation. You're welcome here as long as you need it."

Kagome hesitated, allowing her gaze to drift slowly between them--from the man with the earnest gaze, to the little kitsune with the worried frown, and back again. Two honest and sincere faces, doing their best to reassure her, to make her believe that all would be well. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled, the choking thickness in her chest slowly dissipating as a tiny, grateful smile curved her lips.

A sudden frisson of awareness shot down her spine. Hot little prickles went dancing across her skin, followed rapidly by a fleeting ripple of gooseflesh. She stilled, certain she knew the cause. _InuYasha. _Her lips parted on a silent indrawn breath, and she raised her head to meet the impassive golden eyes that studied her from the doorway.

That tiny little shock leapt in her belly again, causing her to blink; one of his ears twitched, and he started imperceptibly, drawing back. Immediately, his expression grew belligerent, and for a moment, Kagome was sure he would walk away. Then he shifted forward, smoothly crossing the room on silent feet to crouch down in front of her. His eyes never left hers, and she found it difficult to pull away from his.

A bundle of cloth was tossed onto her lap. "Here." His voice was gruff, but quiet.

She blinked, then looked down at the loose pile of material that was obviously the promised yukata. She hadn't noticed him carrying it. Her hands clasped in the soft blue folds, and she looked back up. "Thank you." Her volume matched his.

He shrugged, his eyes slipping from hers to wander aimlessly around the barren room. "Don't thank me. The old bat said you needed it." His focus jumped back to her, his expression wary. "So you're _sure_ you don't remember anything, huh? That's sure as hell convenient for you, isn't it?"

She felt her eyes widen at the sudden, almost accusing skepticism in his tone. "N-no. I'm sorry, I really am…" Her gaze faltered under his, anxiety nipping at her thoughts. He'd heard their conversation--she knew he had. Didn't he believe her? Or…was she just not really welcome here? Was she too much of a burden after having been injured and unconscious for so many days? He was the owner of this place, after all. Maybe….

"InuYasha, you're an idiot! We just get done making her feel better and you go and make her feel bad again!" Shippo's furious words drew her divided attention back just as the kit picked up the clay cup and hurled it at InuYasha. She winced as the cup flew by her head.

To her astonishment, with an easy, lightning quick movement, InuYasha plucked the cup from the air in front of his face, and launched it right back with an annoyed scowl. "Back off, brat." Kagome winced again as the cup hit its target with a hollow thunk, producing a loud wail from the child. Poor Shippo. His head must be hurting worse than hers by now.

She made a soft sound of protest. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

Now he was glaring at her. "What? He threw that cup at me first. He knows better."

"He's just a child."

He snorted. "He's a youkai brat. He barely felt a little lump like that."

She felt her brows draw together, slightly indignant at his unconcerned attitude. "You're youkai too, aren't you? How is that any different than a normal adult hitting a child?"

"He's _not_ a normal human--it's a lot harder to hurt him. I'm telling you he's fine." His eyes narrowed. "Are you always this rude to people who save your life?"

Her cheeks flushed hotly. "Are _you_ always this disrespectful of the people who work for you?"

She caught a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in the set of his features. He blinked twice, staring at her. Then he snorted again. "Tch. Since when is how I treat my friends any of your business?" He threw the question at her, sounding irritated and slightly angry…but his gaze had taken on a strange, distracted manner.

She felt her color heighten as his eyes began to wander. They were tracing her features, and for her it was like a physical touch--the soft trail of golden fingers over her warm cheeks, a heated caress along her mouth. The bizarre sensation melted through her, a liquid rush of warmth that spread outward before concentrating into a tense electric knot that nestled in the lowest regions of her belly.

Her eyelids fluttered slightly. She dragged her eyes away from his unsettling inspection to stare at her long-forgotten bowl. "It's n-not. I didn't mean…" Her breath felt funny--shallow, uneven. Her head bowed even lower. "I…I'm sorry."

A long silence followed her apology. She bit her lip, afraid she'd offended everyone. Then Miroku chuckled, breaking the quiet, and Kagome glanced over at him. He looked pleased. "Well, I'm impressed, Miss Kagome. Standing up to InuYasha takes courage…but shaming him is an art."

She risked a glance back at the hanyou, and was surprised to see him staring at her, the look on his face rather odd, somewhere between stunned and alarmed. His surprise softened his features and made him look much younger and less threatening than his previous expressions had--he looked almost…cute. Then he ruined it by darting a glare at his manager. "Shut up, Miroku. Shippo deserved what he got."

"Maybe," Miroku's deep violet eyes laughed at him. "But you know very well that you shouldn't have snapped at her like that. The poor girl has only just woken up, and I imagine she is very confused by all this."

"Yeah. You should be more understanding of little kids, too." Shippo finally piped up from a reasonably safe distance behind Kagome's left arm.

InuYasha's fingers curled into a fist that he pointed threateningly at the small kit. "You looking for some more, Shippo?"

"I think perhaps that our guest has had enough excitement, don't you?" Miroku glanced at Kagome. "Are you all finished eating? There's still rice, if you want some."

Kagome was somewhat confused by the rapid change in atmosphere, but the obvious fact that she hadn't offended her hosts registered clearly. A small smile formed on her lips, and she shook her head and handed the bowl back to Miroku. "No, thank you. I think I've had enough for now."

She did have another need, though, one that was making itself more and more evident as time went by. Her brows furrowed as she glanced around the room. "Umm…where is Kaede?"

InuYasha sat back on his heels, then pushed upward, rising in one smooth movement to stand on bare feet. She was slightly disappointed to see that the wariness had returned to his gaze as he glanced down at her. "I saw her a little while ago, heading for the second floor. She said she had something to do and then handed me that thing and told me to give it to you." His brows tensed slightly. "Said not to let you walk around too much yet."

_Uh-oh._ "Will she be back any time soon?"

A shrug. "Beats me. I'm not even sure why she was going upstairs."

_Great._ Could she wait? This was definitely not something she wanted to ask of three strange males--no matter how friendly two of them might be. Well…really, all she needed was directions, anyway. "Well, then, could someone--I mean, could one of you please point out…" All three looked at her inquiringly, and a blush, hot and red, colored her face. "I umm…have to…I really have to use…" _Stop being silly and say it!_ "Could you tell me where the restroom is?"

It was almost comical, the way that comprehension dawned on three faces at once. Miroku set the tray aside. "How thoughtless of us. Of course." He leaned forward, reaching for the yukata in her lap. "Why don't I help you put this on and it will be no trouble to--"

InuYasha was suddenly standing between them, scowling. "What did I tell you about touching her? She sure as hell doesn't need your help to put on a stupid robe…and you're not taking her anywhere, either."

Miroku looked indignant, but he sat back and crossed his arms with an innocent little huff. "She should have some help if she's going to try walking around, don't you think, InuYasha? I was just thinking of her welfare."

"Keh. You were just _thinking_ of her butt." He sighed, then turned to her. "Hurry up. Put that thing on and I'll take you and make sure you get back ok."

Kagome was feeling pretty indignant herself, and she probably resembled a cherry after they had made such a big deal out of her request. She didn't need help to go to the bathroom! She was injured, not invalid! Besides, did he have to make it sound like a huge inconvenience? "Please, you don't have to come with me. Just tell me where it is. I'll be fine."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure. Just like you were fine when I found you, and just like you were fine right before you passed out the last time, right? It's no big deal--just put that thing on, and I'll show you where to go, and make sure you don't collapse on the way."

Shippo didn't help when he added thoughtfully, "Kagome _did_ almost faint when she tried to stand up earlier. It might be better if InuYasha walks with her."

As if that settled it, all three males turned to stare expectantly at her.

She almost argued, but decided that besides being petty, it would get her nowhere. Mildly irritated, she whipped the yukata around her shoulders, not even thinking of removing the shirt first. She shoved her arms into the wide sleeves, and stood as quickly as her body would allow, wrapping the garment around the shirt and belting it closed with the obi.

She looked up as she finished tying the knot. "There, you see, I'm--" She broke off with a gasp as once again--_oh, damn--_the blood rushed through her head. Her vision flooded with strange shapes and fuzzy colors. A voice spoke sharply somewhere in the background, but the words were nothing more than muffled gibberish. She was unable to decide if she was sitting, standing, or falling--it felt as if she was doing all three at once. She wobbled. A warm palm grasped at her elbow, a firm and steady pressure in a torrent of mind-bending distortion. Confused, she reached out and clutched at the arm with her free hand, her fingers curling into the soft material covering the skin, clinging for dear life to the one thing that wasn't moving.

It took a few moments for the disorienting onslaught to recede; but gradually, the mad whirling in her head died down, and the colorful film over her eyes faded away. She drew a huge breath and let it out slowly as she once again found her center of gravity.

Her eyes focused on the gray threads of a knitted top. Slowly, she followed the threads over the rise of a chest, to where it lay loosely against the skin of a throat. Her eyes flicked up, and her breath caught in her lungs. InuYasha--mere inches away--stared down at her, amber eyes darkened with concern, black brows compressed in a tiny frown. Stunned find him so close, her hands released their grip on his arm and she stepped back…and almost tripped in the folds of the blanket covering the futon.

His eyes widened, and he released her elbow to grab hold of her waist, lifting her off the thin bedding, setting her feet on solid wood--a good distance away from him--with an exasperated 'tsk'. "There--do _you_ see? It'll be a hell of a lot of trouble if you topple over like that again." His hands pulled away hesitantly, watching her closely to make sure she could stand on her own.

Mortified at her clumsiness, and still slightly dizzy, Kagome just nodded.

After a moment, he sighed and stepped around her. "Let's go. You don't look like you'll be able to stand for very long."

* * *

For a good ten minutes of absolute silence, all she did was stare.

Her reflection, her face. The woman in front of her stared back, her features painted with the same wonder and dismay that Kagome felt as she stood before the mirror like a prisoner before a judge.

Her hand went to her nose, fingers sliding gently down the straight bridge. As if to reassure her, the image before her did the same. She watched as fingertips feathered over the smooth skin, skimming the curled edges of dark lashes. She blinked, and wide gray eyes blinked back. They didn't stop, but outlined over every prominence--the arch of an eyebrow, the slope of a cheekbone, the slim line of a jaw--before coming to rest against soft, slightly chapped lips.

She noted absently that her nails needed a trim.

How strange. She knew the lines of this face. She was familiar with that curve at the end of her jawbone, had somehow expected the small ears to peak from the mass of inky black hair that--she grimaced, and obediently, the features in the mirror twisted accordingly--was in desperate need of a wash. She hadn't been at all surprised to see the face that peered back at her, and yet…

And yet she didn't _know_ it, not really. The face before her was both familiar and foreign, an alien landscape that had been mapped, then misplaced. Nothing came to mind upon seeing it--nothing clicked, nothing sparked--and yet she knew the exact curve of every feature, would have been shocked to see anything but this when she'd first paused to look.

How could she know, but not know?

She took a deep breath, her fingers going to the thick white strip of cloth around her head, rubbing gently along the area where the padding was thickest. _What happened? How did I get here, and what was I doing? Why can't I remember…anything?_

Her hands fell to the sink, along with her gaze, and she sighed. She felt lost, floating aimlessly in a space with no up or down and no ground to stand on. She had no idea what to do next.

She frowned wearily. Unfortunately, there wasn't much she _could_ do. Her situation was what is was, and she had no choice but to make the best of it. She thought back to the room, and the panic that had threatened to overwhelm her when she'd first realized. To the reassurance they'd tried so hard to give her.

Everyone here was so kind. They had taken her in--a complete stranger--and nursed her back to health at the expense of their own time and effort. Why they hadn't just taken her to a hospital was beyond her ability to comprehend, but she found herself glad.

Nor, strangely, did she feel compelled to call on the police. Something inside her immediately shied away at the thought of authorities of any kind. She mused over that realization for a moment, but could find no concrete reason for it. She gave a mental shrug. Just as well--according to Shippo, they wouldn't go to the police anyway. Whatever the reason, she would just be thankful not to have to deal with them.

She gripped the edges of the sink. That still left the problem of what to do after she was fully recovered. She would have to leave, eventually, and try to piece together what had happened to her. The prospect was a daunting one. She preferred not to think about it at the moment, so she tucked it away into a corner of her brain for consideration at a later date.

But more than anything, she wanted to repay the people here for their kindness. She wished there was something--anything--that she could do to show them her appreciation.

She glanced at the door, conscious of the male standing on the other side, waiting for her. _InuYasha_. The owner of this place. If it weren't for him, she'd think maybe she could stay _here_.

Of all the things that she had encountered since waking up here, he confused her the most.

He didn't seem to like her very much, and he certainly didn't trust her. He hadn't said a word as he'd led her through the multiple hallways to the bathroom, hadn't touched her, hadn't offered any support. He'd barely looked at her, just glowered at the walls as they passed by. It was obvious he didn't want her around.

And yet his eyes had shown concern. His touch had been gentle and considerate when he'd kept her from falling. He was the one who had saved her.

He made her jumpy, nervous, uncomfortable. Except…when he stared at her, when their eyes connected…she felt strange. Her insides tensed up, and she couldn't find her breath. The feeling wasn't unpleasant, just disconcerting. And--she thought back to his rather chagrined look when he thought he'd upset her--she had the feeling he had more to him than that prickly, rude exterior….

Maybe.

After all, he'd called the others his friends, not his employees. From what she'd seen, they were all obviously very close. Miroku and Shippo seemed to trust him--they'd acquiesced to his commands fairly quickly.

Now if only he trusted her. She sighed again, tired of worrying about what would happen tomorrow. Fatigue swept over her, and every muscle in her body went limp, making it harder to move, signaling her to hurry up and finish--she might have overdone it. Besides, the owner was waiting.

She reached out and turned on the water.

* * *

His ears twitched absently as he slouched against the wall in the hallway, arms and feet crossed casually. The only sign of his impatience was the tapping of one finger against his arm.

He scowled. _Just what the hell is she doing_? It had been ten minutes since he'd heard anything at all. She should have been out by now. His ears swiveled again, straining to catch even the smallest hint that she needed help.

He was just about to say to hell with etiquette and go storming in, when a faint, despondent little sigh reached his ears, assuring him she was still conscious. With a tiny grumble, he relaxed back against the wall. He'd never been able to figure out what it was with women and bathrooms. As if the damned stupid woman hadn't already taken enough of his time.

Then _he_ sighed. He should probably cut her some slack. After all, according to her, whatever life she'd had was gone, vanished in one night, in one instant. His right ear flicked, and he shifted uncomfortably, fighting his own thoughts, and the sympathy that strengthened the grip on his arms. She would be feeling very lost right now--frustrated, directionless…alone. Probably scared. The need to disappear, to get away and think…he understood that.

His mouth tightened. That was, _if_ she was telling the truth.

Except, as far as he could tell, she _was_ telling the truth.

His mind flashed at him, images of her face since she'd arrived. At first, she'd been unconscious, blissfully unaware, and for a solid week, he'd been able to do nothing but stare at her and wonder. Wonder what her eyes looked like, wonder what she'd have to say, wonder what in the hell had happened to her, and why in the hell it had to happen anywhere near him. Then she'd come awake, and it had be _she_ who stared at _him_, gray eyes wide with naked emotion--confusion, pleading, agitation, shock…

Irritation. Surprise. Utter fascination.

Her eyes hadn't left him alone.

_Damn, damn, damn!_ He didn't like it, this…this power, this unwitting influence she had over him. It disturbed him, made him want to fight, to throw it off and be rid of it. But it wouldn't let him go. He could still feel the involuntary tug that had pulled at him the second her eyes first touched his. For an instant, it had been so strong that he'd wanted to run. He'd wanted to turn and dash out into the forest, and fill his lungs with the wild, frozen scents of animals and trees--had even gone so far as to turn his back--just to erase the warm, inviting scent of _her_ from his mind.

But it had never been in his nature to run away.

Another sigh reached his ears, followed closely by the sound of running water. He glared at the bathroom door. _It's about godsdamned time._ His heel hit the wall, eager to get her back to her temporary bed and away from him.

Before he did something unforgivably stupid.

It didn't help that he could so easily sense her reactions as well. At first, it had been her eyes, and the fascination in them when she'd first seen him. Then, it had been the shift in her scent before she'd even looked up, a subtle change that had warned him she knew he was standing at the door. Gods, but his reaction to that had been immediate and unnerving. And when she'd almost collapsed and he'd had to hold her up, stunned awareness had flashed through her eyes, unconcealed and clear as day…and for just a moment, he'd wanted to….

He stared down at his hand, flexing his fingers in and out. The contour of her waist, the warmth of the skin, still clung to his palms. The yukata she wore was of the thin, extremely casual summer type, and, while it did a decent job of blurring her figure, it offered little more in the way of a _physical_ buffer than his shirt did. He clenched his fist over the phantom feeling. Not that he hadn't already seen everything she had to offer.

Then he blinked. Not that she was offering.

_Shit._

He scowled and shook his head, his gaze turning inward. It had to be her looks. The effect of such a familiar face, one that he had struggled to erase from his memory for five solid years, emerging to haunt him. He fought a growl. Just a nightmare from the past, stirring up all the old feelings he thought he'd conquered--both the bad…and the not-so-bad.

He grimaced. Or it could just be time--damn, but it had been a long time.

Either way, he had to find a way to deal with it. She _was_ staying after all, at least until she got her memory back…if she had indeed lost it.

It had only been a day since she woke. Maybe, once she'd been around for a while, once he got used to her, everything would settle down again, and it would all go away. He could get back to his normal routine--without having to worry about _her_, or her effect on him.

The door scraped as it slid open, and his gaze darted up to brush against hers. For several moments, neither moved.

With effort, he managed to drag away, to direct his glance back down the empty hallway. _Or maybe I can just avoid her until she leaves._ "You done?"

She hesitated, then, "Y-yes."

He looked back at her--he couldn't help himself--and this time he really looked at her. _Shit._ She looked exhausted. Her coloring had paled, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed darker than they had when she went in. In his mouth, his teeth clenched. If she fainted, he'd have to _carry_ her back.

With another grumble, he reached out and took hold of her arm, tugging her--gently--down the hallway. "Come on. You look like you're about to fall over."

She followed willingly, and he kept a concerned eye on her as they walked. He kept his pace slow, because he didn't feel like dragging her all the way back to her room. "You know the way now--remember it, and next time you can go by yourself."

She just nodded tiredly. Damn, but he suddenly wished they hadn't moved her to the back. The Sachi was actually much bigger than it looked, and several hallways and a few rooms separated the mostly empty storage room at the back from the closest bathroom.

Her thoughts must have been running along the same lines. "How big is this place? Inns are usually pretty big, right?"

He glanced at her again, then shrugged. "There's three different wings and about thirty rooms, including the common rooms and the kitchen. As far as inns go, the Sachi's decent sized, but it can get confusing to find what you want if you don't know where you're going, so you better pay attention."

She nodded again. "Ok."

They almost ran into Miroku as they made their way through the second of the common living rooms. He was on his way back to the back room, a fresh pitcher of water in hand. He fell into step beside them. "How do you like our little inn, Kagome?"

She blinked, then smiled a little. "Well, I haven't really seen much, but it seems very nice." They exited from the living room, and went under a set of stairs. She wrinkled her nose. "A little confusing, maybe."

Miroku gave a small nod. "Indeed. The Sachi is a little different from most inns you'll find. It was built by an American, after all. But you'll get used to it, eventually." His glance slid over her, assessing, before he glanced over at InuYasha. "I'll have to give you a full tour after you've recovered more of your strength. We can't have you wandering around without knowing where you're going."

They reached the back room, and the two men allowed her to go in first. InuYasha noted the way Kagome sank gratefully back onto the small futon, pulling the blanket around herself protectively, as Miroku set the pitcher and yet another clay cup on the floor within easy reach.

She glanced at them both, then looked down to stare at her fingers as they twisted the edge of the blanket self-consciously. Several locks of blue-black hair slid over her shoulder to rest against her neck. "Umm…I would very much like a tour, thank you." Her tongue slicked out, drawing InuYasha's attention as she moistened dry lips. "But…"

"We'll have to go into Sounkyo to get you some clothes, too." Miroku stood, looking over her critically, one finger rubbing absently along the side of his head. He glanced over at InuYasha. "The nightgown she was wearing should be a sufficient example, but we better get her measurements for some of the other things."

InuYasha frowned warningly at him. "Kaede can do it later."

Miroku sent him an aggravated look. "I wasn't suggesting that _I _do it."

He snorted skeptically, but didn't remark as his glance caught Kagome's surprise. She sat blinking up at them. "But…clothes? I'm not sure…" She paused, then frowned, her eyes seeking his questioningly. "Nightgown?"

"It's what you were wearing when InuYasha found you." Miroku explained, still looking thoughtful. "We were hoping you could tell us why it was the only thing you were wearing, but since it appears you don't remember anything…" He shrugged, and his violet eyes focused on her. "And of course we're going to get you some clothes. You can't very well spend the rest of your life in a yukata made primarily for bathing, can you?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Well, no, but…" She turned back to him. Mentally, he scowled, wishing she would stop looking at him as if he had the answers to all her questions. She sighed. "I suppose I need clothes, don't I?" She bowed her head, biting her lip. "You have all been so very kind. I don't know how I'll ever thank you. I promise I'll find a way to repay you, after I've gotten better."

They both stared at her. Miroku glanced over at InuYasha, then folded to sit comfortably on the floor. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Ah, yes. When you get better." He studied her seriously. "I know you're only recently awake, and this may be too early to ask, but I wonder, Miss Kagome…have you given any thought to what you're going to do? Considering that you have no memories of whatever life you've had, do you really have any idea what you're going to do after you're able to move around freely?"

For a moment, her look turned stricken, and InuYasha felt a frown tightening his brows. Then she sighed again, and her gaze returned to her hands as her fingers resumed their anxious twisting. "Well…I'm not entirely sure. I feel like I need to try and find out who I am, and what happened to me…but I'm not really sure how to do that." She looked uncertain. "I know I'll need a way to support myself…but I haven't really…"

Miroku nodded sympathetically. "May I offer a suggestion?" She looked up at him inquiringly. "Perhaps you could give some thought to staying here, as a staff member at the Sachi."

Kagome stilled, and her eyes widened, then glanced probingly over at him. He just glanced away, refusing to meet her eyes. Miroku took note of the brief exchange before continuing. "You have no place else to go, and--while you may not realize it--you've been with us for the past week, and we've grown rather fond of you. I believe we would all hate to see you out on your own all alone."

Kagome blinked at him, eyes still wide. "A job? But…what would I do?"

Miroku relaxed back, his expression still solemn, but InuYasha could detect a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Anything that Kaede has trouble doing. Currently, it is only the four of us here, running the Sachi, and while having such a small staff may keep us busy, it does put undo stress on the older woman. Don't mistake me, this would be very hard work." He paused. "But we could definitely use the help, and…" he shrugged, "we've been thinking of hiring on anyway."

InuYasha suppressed a snort at the ease with which the lie fell, unwilling to give Miroku away. Kagome still looked unconvinced. She turned yet another hesitant look on him, almost as if she were testing him. This time, he met her gaze, but he let nothing of his uncertainty show. She glanced back at Miroku. "I'm not sure what my skills are," she warned him. "I'm not to sure how I'd do."

Miroku finally allowed himself a smile. "Let me assure you, I have the utmost of confidence in your abilities, Miss Kagome--whatever they are." He got to his feet, his hands dusting off the casual black pants he wore. "Well, it's just a suggestion, and you have plenty of time to decide. Please don't feel pressured, or that you owe us in any way. We were only doing what any good person would have done. If you decide that you don't want to remain here at the Sachi, we will be more than pleased to find you other accommodations." He strolled over to the door, then turned to look at her. "Just promise me you'll think it over."

It took her a moment, but she finally smiled back at him. "I will. Arigato."

Miroku nodded. "No, thank you. It is our great honor. Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have some business to take care of." With a meaningful glance at InuYasha, he disappeared down the hall.

InuYasha frowned after him, then turned back to Kagome, who was now staring thoughtfully at her hands. "You'll be ok by yourself?"

Surprised, she glanced back up. Her eyes held the weary look of someone who's heard too much at once, and her shoulders slumped with strain. His frown deepened, but she smiled once again. "Yes. Thank you. I think I'll just take a little nap. I'll be fine."

He gave her a hard stare, then nodded shortly before stepping out, sliding the door shut behind him. His ears twitched as the rustling of cloth indicated that she had lain down.

It took him less than a minute to find Miroku. He was sitting at his station at the reception desk, typing awkwardly on his ultra-portable second love, that godsdamned laptop. His expression was absorbed, and didn't change when InuYasha arrived with a scowl. "You laid that on a little thick, don't you think?"

Miroku didn't even look up. "What? I guarantee that she'll stay. Isn't that what we decided she should do? Now we can keep an eye on her." He glanced down at a pile of papers near his elbow. "No luck with the missing persons reports, by the way. Not that I expected it. I have absolutely nothing to go on. But as far as I can tell, no one in all of Japan has reported a young woman with black hair, gray eyes, with her approximate height and weight missing in the last week or so." He finally looked up. "Same results for the name Kagome."

His scowl didn't let up with the news. "So what the hell are you doing now?"

"This?" Miroku looked surprised. "I've been researching amnesia. As far as I can tell, her symptoms seem to be consistent with a type known as retrograde amnesia. Victims usually suffer some severe head injury, and lose memories prior to said injury." Violet eyes turned speculative. "It certainly lends to her credibility, doesn't it?"

He allowed his claws to strum lightly across the top of the desk. "Does it say if she'll be able to remember?"

Miroku shrugged. "It says that in most cases, amnesiacs will usually--gradually--regain most, if not all, of their memories. But it also says that some never do. That basically supports what Kaede said." He paused. "She believes her, by the way. So does Shippo, if he counts for anything."

"Keh." His fingers strummed a few more times before he sighed. "We're still back where we started. Nothing we can do now but wait and watch." He turned. Maybe, just maybe, it really _was_ just a coincidence, and life would finally get back to normal…albeit with one incredibly disconcerting addition.

"Where are you going?"

"The upper shelf in the women's bath is broken again." His reply was clipped and to the point. "I'm going to fix it while the guests are out." He paused, jaw clenched tightly, waiting for what he knew was coming.

"InuYasha…don't you think we should--"

"No." He bit out the word.

"But--"

"Just what the hell good would it do?" He didn't bother to turn around. The subject would be brief. "What the hell can he do that _you_ can't?"

"He should know."

"He should also go fuck himself up the ass, but I don't see that happening anytime soon, do you?" The growl was back in his tone--a sure warning sign.

Miroku gave a dry chuckle. "Now _there's_ an image I never wanted in my head." Then he sighed. "Ok, you're the boss."

A bitter smile twisted his lips. "Yeah, well…he made sure of that, didn't he?"

* * *

**A/N**: I've taken a few liberties with the Japanese language here--certain terms such as **youkai** (_demon_), **arigato **(_thank you_), and **gomen**, or **gomen ne **(_I'm sorry/forgive me_) are and will be used interchangeably with their English counterparts throughout the story.

**Yukata**: _literally means bath robe or bathing cloth; they're a type of extremely casual kimono that are worn to festivals and frequently around bath houses and hot springs_

And thanks to those of you who reviewed. This story is a favorite of mine, and while it's currently taking a back seat to other projects, I will be updating whenever I can. Let me know if there's any way I can improve, or if you have any questions. I'll be most happy to answer them…if I can. (_evil maniacal laughter sounds in the background_) Whoops! Was that me?? O.o

Blessings until next time, Quill :P


	4. The Sachi

Disclaimer: InuYasha and company aren't mine. I just covet them sinfully and abuse them vicariously. And they love me for it. nods Don't ever let them tell you otherwise.

* * *

CHAPTER 3

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Heaving a weary sigh, Kagome tossed the cloth back into the bucket and sat back on her heels. She ran a hand across her forehead, noting with satisfaction the fine film of perspiration that rubbed off against her palm. Keeping the hardwood floors clean in what basically amounted to a small mansion was a difficult and time-consuming task, apart from all the other daily tasks that kept the place livable. Kagome didn't know how Kaede had done it almost by herself for so long.

Thankfully, this was her last chore for the night.

She got to her feet, brushing back the multiple strays that had drifted loose from her braid over the course of the day, then picked up the bucket before heading back to the kitchen, her bare feet thudding gently on the now-clean wooden boards. Her already fatigued muscles protested the weight, and--much to her displeasure--she had to use two hands to make sure she didn't drop it. She was still pretty weak…although, with all the work to do every day, she was quickly regaining whatever strength she'd once had.

She paused at a junction and glanced around to orient herself. After looking left, then right, she nodded and turned right, down the dimly lit hallway leading away from the main wing.

Eight days. She'd already been awake and moving around for a little over a week, and she was only just getting her bearings. Miroku had warned her that it would take a while.

The Sachi, contrary to her first impression, was actually big for a traditional inn, with about twenty-seven Japanese style rooms, several common rooms, a laundry room, several baths and the kitchen, as well as several unused storage rooms. Spacious and comfortably furnished, the Sachi was an unusual mix of traditional Japanese and modern Western décor. Almost every door inside was sliding paper, while most of the main doors that led outside swung open in the western style, and could be locked for security. Each of the private guest rooms was covered with tatami matting and Japanese-style furnishings, while the rest of the inn was laid with smooth, polished wood, and cushy, comfortable western-style sofas and chairs.

The problem was that nothing was where it _seemed_ it should be. Instead of clustering together on the second floor or in the side wings, the private guest rooms were interspersed with the common ones throughout the Sachi, connected by a rather confusing maze of hallways. You had to be careful which door you chose to slide open, or you could find yourself in the middle of a guest's room rather than the laundry room or kitchen. To solve any potential affront, a standing rule at the Sachi ensured that all the common area doors remained open at all times. That way all closed doors were automatically assumed private.

Miroku had given her a comprehensive tour as soon as Kaede had given him the ok, just a few days after she had agreed to stay. She'd ended up hopelessly confused. Afterwards, over tea at the small table in the kitchen--where, Miroku informed her, she would be eating her meals along with the rest of the staff--Kagome had inquired about the design.

"Why is it all built so…" She bit her lip, afraid of being rude.

Miroku's smile had been full of understanding. "Confusing? Bewildering? Maze-like? That, I'm afraid, is the entirely the fault of the original owner. He was an American businessman who came to Hokkaido about a decade after the war. He created the Sachi from scratch, designed it personally and built it with his own money."

She frowned. "An American wanted to run a traditional inn? Weren't there other things he might be better at?"

"Oh, the Sachi didn't start out as an inn." Miroku had paused in the act of sipping his tea to give her a surprised look. "That's right…you don't know the story, do you?"

She blinked. "Story?"

Miroku had nodded. "Oh yes, there's a story behind the Sachi." He set his cup down and leaned forward, resting comfortably on his elbows. "The businessman who built this place was an American soldier who had become extremely wealthy and successful after the war, but still found his life empty and sad. He decide to come back to Japan, searching for resolution for the things he'd done during the war, and found it in the kindness of the beautiful young daughter of a local inn-owner in Sounkyo, with whom he fell desperately in love.

"He courted her with gifts and affection, determined to win her heart. His kindness was so great that she couldn't help but love him in return, despite the objection of her family. Against their wishes, she married him in a quiet civil ceremony, and presented him to her family. In retaliation, they disowned her, and to the young bride's great sorrow, vowed to strike her memory from their lineage. Trying to relieve his love of some of the pain of being estranged from her family, the businessman took her with him back to the United States, and gave her everything her heart desired. She loved him all the more for it, and they were extremely happy."

He gave a dramatic sigh. "Unfortunately, very shortly after their marriage, the businessman's beloved wife fell ill with a serious disease. He called in the best doctors that money could buy, but the disease was incurable, and his wife was given a year at most to live. Heartbroken, the businessman brought his wife back to Hokkaido, and threw all of his effort and money into building her a house where she could spend the rest of her days in a peace, trying to reproduce some of the familiarity and comfort of her childhood home. He considered it a final gift--a shrine to his beloved, and a symbol of his devotion to her.

"They say that when he showed her the house he had built her, he asked her to christen the house by giving it a worthy name. After exploring the house, she told him that she felt a great honor to have a husband that loved her so much. Therefore, she bequeathed it a name befitting the great happiness that his love gave to her. A short time later, she died peacefully in her sleep. The couple spent only a few months in their home, but it is said they lived a lifetime of happiness in those few months."

Kagome had stared at him, touched. "How sad. They had so little time together." She'd glanced around the kitchen, at the erratic design and homey feel. "So… she gave it the name 'Sachi', in honor of the happiness they brought to this house." She looked back, curious as a thought struck. "What happened to the businessman?"

Miroku had lazed back in his chair, his tone studied. "Well, that's the legendary part. Even though he was perfectly healthy, the husband was also found dead, kneeling next to the futon where his wife lay. Supposedly, an investigation could find no certain cause of death. They say his heart simply…stopped beating."

His dark eyes trained on her. "The locals believe that their love was so deep and true that it pulled his soul with hers into the next life, ensuring that they would be together always. Some claim that their love marked the Sachi itself, and that the house is alive because of it. The legend of the Sachi is simple: if any true, soul-bound lovers come together in this place, the Sachi will bless them, bind them together, and forever after, no trial or obstacle will be able to separate them."

He paused to let the drama of the statement sink in, then shrugged. "Anyway, people like to come here to stay in the place of the lovers' death. We get a lot of young couples who believe that staying here is good luck because of the legend, and a lot of older couples who want to 'renew their spark', so to speak." He grinned. "The original owners are very good for business."

Kagome, who had been transfixed by the story, just rolled her eyes. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that money was one of Miroku's great loves. "So…the reason the Sachi is so…_unusual_ is because…"

"Is because the businessman who built it wanted it to be a symbol of his love for his Japanese wife, and a visual representation of the bond they had together. It was only _after_ they died that it was turned into an inn."

She'd pondered that for a few moments, then looked up. "But…doesn't the layout confuse the guests?"

He chuckled into his cup. "It certainly does. When we first came here, not even _we_ could find our way around. Thankfully, whoever came before us thought to put up the signs."

Kagome's eyebrows rose. "Signs? What signs?"

He gave her a startled look. "You didn't notice the signs? They're everywhere, posted on the walls and…many other things." Then he shrugged casually, but his deep violet eyes sparkled with amusement. "Oh well. You'll notice them eventually, and then you'll know what I mean. They help people find their way…for the most part…and most of our guests seem to find them amusing."

His words echoed in her head just as the sign posted on the wall beside the kitchen entrance came into view, and she couldn't help but laugh quietly.

It was a small, square wooden plaque, with carved, removable wooden characters. Currently, the words were cheerfully declaring 'kitchen', with an arrow pointing up, indicating the wide open space directly behind it, through which the generous cooking area and all its appliances, interspersed with the countertop, could clearly be seen. Underneath the word 'kitchen', were the words 'dead end', with an arrow pointing to the wooden wall that cut off the hallway some feet away. Underneath those words, was the phrase 'nearest toilet: follow arrow', followed by smooth blankness, sans any arrow whatsoever.

Whatever that was supposed to indicate, Kagome found it amusing. The signs really were _everywhere_ in the Sachi, and seemed to change places and wording on a whim. One day a sign would be posted on the nearest lampshade, pointing at the light switch with explicit instructions on how to flip it; the next day it would have moved to the stairway, with precise directions on how to reach the second floor. Sometimes they were even illustrated.

Stepping into the deserted kitchen--only faintly illuminated by the dim yellow bulb over the stove--Kagome heaved the bucket of dirty water onto the table with a weary sigh. The newest wooden plaque caught her attention, and she grinned. Stuck into the center of the bare, polished tabletop, it warned, 'Eat at own risk. Splinters and wood chips may occur'.

She shook her head at the nonsense. "Shippou." No one had actually come out and said it yet, but she had a sneaking suspicion the fox-child was the one responsible for the seemingly animate signs. In the week she'd been here, she'd seen him pull some interesting stunts with that fox-magic of his.

She stared at the heavy bucket of dirty water, eyeing the distance between the table and the sink. Her arms were already tired, first from scrubbing the hallways for most of the afternoon and evening, then from hauling the heavy bucket all the way to the end of the left wing, where the kitchen was located. Just now, her muscles felt somewhere between the density of wood and lead, and the thought of having to haul the bucket up over the sink was just a little daunting. Still, all she had to do was dump the water and stick the dirty cloths in the laundry room at the back of the right wing, and she could go to bed.

She sighed again, then braced herself, giving each long sleeve an extra push to make sure it stayed above her elbows. Getting a solid grip on the handle, she tugged firmly. The bucket slid from the table…and dropped straight to the floor with a solid thunk, painfully yanking at her arms in the process. The water sloshed out over the sides, splashing all over the wooden boards, _and_ all over her feet.

_Good going, klutz. _She glared at the dirty water, rubbing at her sore arms with both palms. _Stupid bucket._ Now she had to clean up the mess as well as dump the water. Grumbling to herself, she turned to get a cloth from the long counter that cut the room in half, separating the sink and appliances from the table and the sliding door that led outside.

Her vexed gaze locked with darkened amber, and her movement checked as a startled quiver shot through her stomach.

For a moment, she froze in shock, heart pounding, trying to recapture the breath that rushed from her lungs at his unexpected appearance. He stood just inside the open doorway, one hand resting against the frame. He was dressed with his typically casual manner, in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and his silver hair hung free of the tie he tried to keep it in during the day. Her eyes widened.

_InuYasha…gods…when did he get here?_

His eyes narrowed. "Tch. Damn it, do you _always_ try to do things by yourself when you know you can't?" His voice snapped at her in a low, irritated growl, shaking her out of her surprise. Then he was crossing the kitchen on silent feet, reaching out to snag a dishtowel off the polished countertop before stalking past her.

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly before rotating on her heel. He was crouched down on his haunches, ignoring the fact that his bare feet were getting as dirty as hers while he wiped up the moisture she'd put on the floor. Doing her job for her.

She stared, unsure of how to act now that he was actually in the same room with her…and a little shocked that he was. For the past week or so, she was sure he'd been avoiding her, always on his way out of whatever room she was in, always irritated or annoyed with her for being there. He never really seemed to look at her, not even when he spoke to her--which was generally only in brief, surly grunts or short phrases--and she was under the strong impression that he didn't really want her at the Sachi.

Yet he _had_ been watching her, she was sure. On more than one occasion she'd felt the unnerving sensation of his eyes as she went about whatever chore Kaede had asked her to do. Except when she looked around, he was either looking away from her, or not there at all. And when she did catch him--once--actually _looking_ at her, it had been a glare that put her back up, and might have sent her running from the room if she could've figured out the reason for it. He was the one person here who was still as much a mystery to her as he had been when she'd first woken up.

"You know…you don't have to do that," she protested finally, walking over and putting out her hand for the towel. "It's my mess. I'll clean it up."

His glance flashed over her as he swiped up the last of the water and tossed the towel into the bucket with the other cloths. "Too late."

Hooking two fingers around the handle, he rose to his feet, lifting it effortlessly (much to her chagrin), then hesitated. His golden eyes drifted slowly over her form, taking in her fatigued features, dirty clothes, and mussed hair. She fidgeted, rubbing her hands along the legs of her not-quite-broken-in jeans.

An annoyed frown dipped his brows. "You should have asked for help if you were too tired to carry it."

She flushed slightly under the reprimand. "I'm not too tired," she insisted. "Really. It's just that I've been carrying it around all day and…" She trailed off, and he rolled his eyes.

"And it got too heavy, right?" With a quiet snort, he ripped his eyes away from hers and headed for the appliance side of the room--leaving plenty of space between her and him, she noticed.

Within moments, he had tipped the dirty water down the sink and started ringing the rest of the water from the small mountain of cloths she'd used that day. "It's only been a few days, you know. Nobody around here expects you to be at full strength yet." He muttered the words without looking at her, then abruptly turned a scowl on her. "Why the hell are you washing the floor at this time of night anyway? Most everyone else is already asleep."

With a hesitant wince, she walked over to join him at the sink. As he set the damp cloths to the side, she picked them up and draped them over her arm, needing the busywork. "It's not that late. Miroku is still up--"

He snorted again, throwing another wrung-out cloth onto the counter. "Miroku's always up this late. He has a long-standing affair with his laptop. I think he likes the way it hums. Besides, _he's_ not recently injured."

"I'm doing much better, really." She grabbed the cloth and added it to the weight on her forearm. "Besides, I promised Kaede I'd get the floors done tonight so that we can start on the laundry first thing after breakfast tomorrow." She fought a yawn, then shrugged self-consciously. "It just…took me longer than I thought it would."

He tossed the last cloth, then noticed the pile she'd transferred to her arm. A hiss of exasperation slipped between his teeth, and he snatched at the rags. "You don't have to work so hard, you know--no one else around here does. You're not a slave or anything."

"Hey." She reached out in an attempt to grab them back, but he just held them above his head. She'd practically have to climb him to get them back, and she definitely didn't have the nerve to do that. She was already too close as it was. Instead, she backed up until her rear wedged against the corner where the counters met, and crossed her arms with a huff. Her gray eyes narrowed. "I have to add those to the dirty laundry. Give them back."

"Do it tomorrow." Seeing her back off, he allowed them to flop back into the sink in one soggy chunk.

The arbitrary order, along with the hollow squelching sound of damp cloth meeting metal, grated her nerves, and she gave him an aggravated look. "Why should I, when a simple walk will have it done tonight, and leave one less thing to do tomorrow?"

His hand slapped against the sink edge at the challenge in her tone, and he fixed her with a glare. "Look. I can _see_ how fucking tired you are. Why bother walking all the way across to the other wing when you'll have to make the same trip tomorrow anyway? Why not save the energy and do two things at once in the morning?"

She glared back, temper rising. "Because I _want_ to do it tonight, that's why."

"Well, you don't _have_ to."

"I don't _not_ have to. It's not even that far of a walk."

He took a small step forward, eyes narrowing. "_I'm_ the boss, remember?"

"Well, _I'm_ the one who has to do all the work that you're telling me to put off. Just let me…." He was getting closer. Unconsciously, she pressed back against the corner until the small of her back pressed against the smooth edge of the countertop. "…Do my job."

"You've done enough for today, damn it." Another little step, and he was looming a few inches away. The pale light from the stove behind him cast deeper shadows across his face, intensifying the yellow in his eyes so that they almost glowed with frustration. "Just stop already. You're beat. I can smell it."

Her eyes widened as her heart jumped up to flutter in her throat, choking off the breath that was suddenly shallow and rapid. His animalistic eyes and the annoyed set of his features were intimidating, and for a split-second, she almost quailed. Then her spine straightened, and she raised her chin. "I'm here, I might as well finish what I started. And I told you…I'm fine."

His frown deepened; her mouth firmed. Across the small distance, they glared at each other stubbornly.

"Well, well."

The new voice surprised them out of their impasse, and they both shot startled looks over to see the Sachi's manager just as he strolled through the wide entrance, hands shoved casually into his pockets, hair falling loose around his face. An unruffled, mildly intrigued expression cast his features as his eyes drifted across the negligible space separating the two. "Interesting. Is this a private party, or am I allowed to intrude for a glass of water?" His gaze slipped between them again. "And maybe stay and watch?"

InuYasha's glance jerked back to her. His golden eyes blinked, then he was a breathable distance away, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed defensively across his chest, scowling like a child caught sneaking snacks before dinner. "Keh. I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Get whatever you want."

"Uh-huh." Miroku's attention turned back to Kagome. "Kagome, what a lovely surprise to find you up at this time of night. I didn't realize you were such a night owl."

She flushed again. "I'm not really. I just have some things to finish before I go to bed tonight. I…didn't realize it was so late." She failed to notice the scowl on InuYasha's face deepen at her words. His eyes fell to the pile of cloths behind him.

Miroku smiled easily. "Yes, the time does have a way of getting away from you, doesn't it? Well, I'm always up at this time of night, so if you ever find yourself wanting for--"

"Oi."

Miroku looked over just in time to catch the hanyou's actions as he scooped the rags up into a thick, clinging chunk.

"Here." InuYasha heaved the moist bundle in his hands across the room. To Kagome's astonishment, despite the startled look on his face, Miroku's hands flew from his pockets, catching them all--even the few that came loose--with minimal hopping. He paused, looking with slow distaste at the damp, grimy rags in his hands, then glanced inquiringly at InuYasha. "And what, pray tell, am I supposed to do with these?"

"Go dump them with the other shit that's going to be washed tomorrow."

Miroku looked askance at him. "In the laundry room? But that's--"

"Kagome was going to do it, but she's had it for the day." The hanyou leaned back against the counter behind him, his expression daring her to object.

Her glance skidded over Miroku before resuming her glare at her obstinate employer. "But it's _my_ responsibility. I can--"

"He doesn't mind." His gaze sliced warningly to his bemused friend, whose violet eyes slid from one to the other in disbelief as he followed their argument. "Do you, Miroku?"

"But he shouldn't have to do it." She gritted out at him.

"But he will anyway, because _I_--"

"Wait." Miroku's dry tone cut through their words, and again, they both turned to glare. "Let me see if I have this straight." He paused, his eyebrows raising. "You two are _arguing_ over who gets to take the _dirty laundry _out?"

The kitchen fell silent.

Kagome felt color warm her face and neck, and dismay sent her gaze to her feet. Stated aloud, the whole thing seemed rather….Well, not only was it childish, but--she fought a groan--she'd just spent the last few minutes in vehement contradiction of the one person who had the power to kick her out on the street. _Gods._ Was she insane?

"Keh." InuYasha moved first, turning his back with a growl and crossing the distance to yank open the refrigerator door. "I don't care. Do what you want."

Kagome closed her eyes shook her head. "No, I was wrong. I shouldn't have argued like that. I don't have the right to--"

"It's fine." His reply was muffled and flat from the refrigerator walls.

She frowned at his back. "But--"

"Never mind about the water." Miroku sighed, his eyes rolling to the ceiling. "I think I'll just go take these over for you now, Kagome."

She bit her lip and nodded her thanks as he retraced his steps out of the kitchen. "Thank you, Miroku." He gave a faint wave with his good hand as he disappeared. Another muffled 'keh' sounded from in the refrigerator, and she glanced back with a wince.

He rummaged around, glass containers clinking loudly in the otherwise quiet kitchen. She stared, afraid she'd made a huge blunder by arguing with him and making him angry, and unsure of what to do about it. Fatigue wore at her, and she considered just leaving and going to bed, as he seemed so eager for her to do.

But she hesitated. Something--some vague feeling or thought--kept her in the room with him. There was something odd between them that she didn't understand--some strange, uneasy tension that sprang up like a wall whenever she was anywhere near him. It was ridiculous, and she was tired of it. They lived in the same house, saw each other every day; they couldn't exactly avoid each other forever.

As minutes ticked by and his exploration of the contents of the refrigerator still hadn't yielded anything he wanted, it became obvious he was intent on ignoring her. The longer the silence stretched between them, the more awkward it became. Slightly aggravated by his behavior, Kagome clasped her hands together tightly to keep herself from fidgeting, but didn't move otherwise.

Finally, he turned to glare at her, slamming the refrigerator door closed behind him with a bang that made her jump. "Why are you still here?"

She swallowed, and bowed her head. "I just wanted to…apologize. I was inexcusably rude." She peeked at him, then down again. "You saved my life, and even allowed me to stay here. I'm very grateful, and I didn't mean too…" she faltered, "…umm, I hope you'll forgive me."

He didn't respond. After a few moments, she glanced up to find him staring at her, looking decidedly taken aback. For a spare instant, gold and gray collided, then his eyes snapped away to glower in the general direction of the open doorway. "Fine. Whatever. Apology accepted." His voice was gruff, softened slightly--but still retained that sharply annoyed edge that pricked at her temper. "_Now_ will you call it a night?"

Her teeth gritted in frustration at being made to feel like a nuisance. She almost turned and left. He didn't want her around? Fine. She'd apologized, hadn't she? She'd tried to be nice. In fact, she'd been trying all week, but he obviously wanted nothing to do with her. She started to turn on her heel.

Except… Once again, she hesitated, as the almost pleading inflection in his question finally registered. She stared at him, intrigued. He noticed her attention and turned his back to her again to rummage through the cabinets, opening them only to slam them shut when they didn't have whatever he wanted. She caught the irregular twitching movements of his ears as they betrayed some kind of anxiety…and for the first time, she wondered if _she_ made _him_ nervous.

It was an interesting thought, but one she didn't have time to explore when his fruitless search through the cupboards abruptly stopped. He stood in the middle of the kitchen for a minute, mumbling something under his breath. Then, without warning, he whirled and headed for the doorway, passing her without a glance. She glared after him, irked by the dismissal. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

"Just what _is_ your problem, anyway? What did I do?"

He froze, and she blinked in shock, pressing her fingers to her lips. She hadn't intended to say that aloud. In fact, the question had barely formed in her mind before it had just sort of…dropped from her lips in a curiously indignant tone--as if her offending him had offended her.

Well, too late now. She couldn't take it back. Instinctively, she held her breath.

But he just turned and scowled at her like she'd lost her mind. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Somewhat surprised at the response, she lifted a shoulder in a reserved shrug and tried for a more composed tone. "Well…it's just that you always seem angry or upset anytime I'm around. I barely know you, so if I did something to displease you, it's only fair that you tell me what it is."

His eyes narrowed at her, a peculiar look ghosting across his face before he turned his back to her. "Tch. Don't worry about it. _You_ didn't do anything." This time, a brooding, slightly sarcastic tone replaced his usually irritated one. He shoved his hands into his pockets and resumed his retreat at a more casual pace.

She frowned at the tense set of his back, wondering about that strange emphasis on the word 'you'. Had someone else made him angry and he was just taking it out on her? That was hardly fair.

And now he was leaving, and she hadn't made any progress with him at all.

She drew a deep breath while her palm rubbed nervously against the roughness of her jean-clad thigh. "Well…is there something I can do for you?"

"What?" He stopped just inside the door, and his head twisted around so fast she almost winced for him.

"You were looking for something earlier, but you're leaving without anything." She pointed out. "Maybe I can make you something?"

He stared at her for a long moment, then visibly relaxed and rolled his eyes. "I told you that you're done for the night, dummy. Stop trying to work." A little of his previous irritation had returned.

For some reason, this time it made her smile. "Actually, I was thinking of trying my hand at making hot cocoa for myself. Since I'm going to make it anyway, it wouldn't count as work if I make a little more, would it?"

He stared at her again, and she was sure he was going to refuse. She saw the intention in his face as he opened his mouth to reply. "Fine. But make it quick."

She hesitated, feeling as surprised as he looked, then gave a short nod, turning to rummage through the cabinets for the mugs and mix. She took the easy route and used the microwave, warming up the milk while she pulled out the cocoa and measured it out into mugs. She didn't realize he was watching her until he commented, the gravelly tone of his voice much closer than it had been a few minutes ago. "Huh. You look like you know what you're doing, at least. Have you managed to remember anything?"

This time her nervous start was far more internal than external when she realized he had come back into the kitchen. When she turned to find him leaning against the countertop opposite her, she was mostly composed, if a little tentative. After all, unless her memory fooled her--_which, unfortunately, is a possibility_--he was the one who'd been so upset when she couldn't remember anything about herself.

She gave a tiny shake of her head. "I don't think so. I'm finding there are many things I just _know_ how to do as I'm doing them. Unfortunately, I don't _know_ that I know them until I try." She sighed helplessly, and plucked absently at a strand of hair falling loose over her eyelash. "The knowledge is there. I just can't find where it comes from."

The microwave gave its ending beep, and her back went to him as she poured the hot liquid to mix with the powder in each mug.

"What sort of things do you remember?"

Once again, the husky rasp of his voice was closer than before, though still not _too_ close. Her hand paused in the middle of stirring. _Note to self: stop turning your back on him_. He moved far too quietly for her comfort.

Drawing a deep breath, she picked up one of the mugs and turned to hold it out to him. "Besides the cooking and the laundry…" he took the mug from her without a word. She found it a little disconcerting to find his eyes suddenly intent on her face after he'd spent the last week avoiding her, and she turned her concentration on her own cup.

"Ummm…I know a lot of things about Japan--history, geography, industry, mythology. I'm pretty good with math. Stuff like that. Kaede thinks that means that I've had a good education." She glanced around the room, then back to where he stood a few feet away. "I know lots of normal, everyday practical things. How to use a telephone and a computer, or any other appliance; how to take the bus or ride the train, even about how much it would cost; what to look for in fruit and other produce when I'm shopping--things that everyone knows. Oh, and Kaede didn't have to show me how to clean the tatami mats or any of the doors. In fact, I don't have to be shown how to do most things around here. I just already know what to do."

He wasn't frowning anymore, and Kagome decided she liked his expressions a whole lot better when they weren't glowering at the world. But he wasn't staring at her anymore, either. Instead, his brows twisted slightly in thought as he stared into his mug. "Huh. Sounds like you lived in a city, at least for a while."

Kagome gave a small nod and a glum sigh. "That's what Kaede says. But that doesn't help much, considering how many possibilities there are. And I might not even be from a city originally." She shifted uncomfortably as her feet abruptly and achingly reminded her that she'd been on them almost all day. Sighing, she pushed away from the counter and headed for the table on the other side of the far counter. "I wish I could remember more, but my mind isn't cooperating properly."

His eyes followed her as she pulled out a chair and sat, wearily resting her forearms on the tabletop as her hands clasped around the heated clay of the mug. A slight frown creased his brows, and he moved forward to the barrier of the countertop, setting his mug down in front of him. "If you're tired, you should just go to bed."

This time, she didn't bother to argue, but gave a drained nod. "I'll go as soon as I'm finished." He gave a short, grudging "humph", and she took another sip of the cocoa, closing her eyes as the sharp warmth slid down her throat and into her stomach, helping to fight the distinct chill of the kitchen air. The temperature outside was somewhere below freezing, and the kitchen was one of the few rooms that had a sliding door leading outside. The insulation wasn't the best.

She opened her eyes again to find him gazing absently into his cup, the anxious glower still in place. It seemed to her that the uneasiness between them had lightened a bit, and she was grateful. She was also curious about him. This was the first time she'd had anything near a normal conversation with him, and she wasn't quite ready to give it up. "It's very nice here," she ventured. She was satisfied when his ears pricked toward her attentively. "At the Sachi, I mean." When he didn't respond, she tried again. "What made you want to run an inn, anyway?"

I she hadn't been watching him so closely, she would have missed the tightening around his mouth at her question. She did miss the way his knuckles whitened slightly around the mug. "Me? Nothing. I never _wanted_ to run an inn."

She frowned, perplexed by the harsh slant to his words. "But…Miroku said you bought out the previous owner of the Sachi over five years ago. If you didn't want to run an inn, then why did you buy one?"

She studied him as he continued his brooding contemplation of his cocoa. Finally, he sighed and relaxed his grip, looking up with a shrug. "I didn't really _want_ the Sachi. It just sort of…came to me on its own. I had it before I knew anything about it, and then it was just something to do to pass the time."

She continued to stare at him, her brow furrowed. Something about that didn't seem right. "But…if you were just bored, couldn't you have found something you'd enjoy more than this?"

His dark brows rose slightly, and he seemed surprised. "What do you mean?"

She blinked, thinking. "Ummm…well, it's just that, running an inn is a very social thing, and it seems that you don't like people very much. You let Miroku and Kaede greet the guests when they come in, and Miroku generally interacts with them during their stay. He does the all the booking and keeps track of all the Sachi's finances. Kaede does most of the cooking and cleaning.

"You seem to spend most of your time lurking in the hallways and the forest where no one can see you. You just fix anything that needs fixing, and help with anything really difficult or physically straining. Honestly, you seem…more like the handyman…than the…" Too late, it occurred to her that saying this to his face might not be the wisest thing in the world, and she trailed to a stop, "…owner."

The look he gave her was strange, as if he wasn't sure whether to be insulted by her assessment or not. "Something wrong with that? Who cares what I do as long as I'm helping?"

"I…" She faltered. "I don't know. I guess not." She tipped her head, still concentrating on him. "You said you never really wanted the Sachi, but you've lived here for a long time. Do you like it now?"

Again, her question seemed to surprise him, and he took a moment to consider; she took special note--this thoughtful look was his gentlest expression yet. "I guess so. I like fixing things around here, and the people don't really bother me, because Miroku handles them. It's mostly quiet, and when it's not, I can always find quiet in the forest." His gaze drifted over to the doors shut tight against the cold. "I like the trees." He paused, frowned a little, voice dropping to a mumble. "Maybe I do like it better here."

_Better? _"Better than where?"

"Tokyo." He answered distractedly, still staring hard at the doors.

"Tokyo?" She recognized the name. Immediately, she identified it as the capital and the largest city in Japan--and for a moment, something familiar niggled at the edges of her mind. "Tokyo…" She murmured it again almost soundlessly as she frowned, rubbing her fingertips over her temple, trying to grasp at the thought. Whatever it was, it remained just out of reach, teasing her for just a second more before fading away entirely. She released a frustrated breath, looking up to find InuYasha's alert golden gaze focused on her.

"You remember something?"

She just sighed again, and shook her head. "What was Tokyo like?"

"Tokyo?" He hesitated, then to her dismay, his guarded expression dropped back into place. "Crowded. Busy. Not as many trees."

He was back to his short, mumbled replies. Kagome would have groaned aloud if she weren't so tired. "Well, what did you do there? I'm betting you didn't run an inn."

"No." He'd focused his attention on his mug again. "I…owned a business."

Her eyebrows shot up, betraying her surprise. "A business? What kind?"

His eyes flicked back up to her. "Sporting goods. Outdoor activities. Shit like that."

Her eyes widened. _Sporting goods?_ An image of him--growling and intimidating some unwitting customer into buying a set of fishing rods--flashed through her mind, and an involuntary giggle left her throat. Her laughter startled him out of his wariness for a moment, and he peered at her, affronted. "What's so funny?"

She shook her head at the absurdity of her thoughts. _No way._ "Nothing. I guess Miroku was working for you then, too?"

For whatever reason, that was the wrong question to ask, because he immediately looked away. "Miroku's been around for a long time."

"And Kaede and Shippou?"

"Less time."

"Well, you all seem very close." Kagome hesitated, uncertain about his mood. "Did you all come here together?"

His head angled down, and his bangs fell into his face, effectively hiding his expression. "Something like that. You got anymore questions that are none of your business?" The sudden return of his hostility, in his voice, in his posture, was palpable. It felt almost like a slap in the face.

Cheeks burning, she fell quiet, and he didn't say anything else. She suspected that talking to him any more tonight would probably prove useless anyway. Disappointed, she shook her head. "Never mind. I shouldn't have asked." A huge yawn hit her before she'd fully formed the sentence, slurring her words. She yawned again, and her arms reached above her head for a moment.

He started to roll his eyes, only to have his gaze stray over the lines of her profile as she stretched. "See how tired you are? _Now_ will you go to bed?"

She sent him a reproachful look at the superiority now lacing his tone, too tired to get really annoyed. Rolling her eyes in return, she stood, cup in hand. "All right, fine. I'm going--" Her right foot stubbed into the leg of the table, and she yelped loudly, hopping on her left foot while somehow managing to set her cup down before it spilled over. The back of her knee hit her chair, and she crashed-sat with a thump. The stinging pain near her toe had her breath hissing from her lungs, and she pulled her right foot up onto her lap, trying to find the source of the ache.

InuYasha had set his mug next to hers almost before she was done yelling, and now stood looking her over with a concerned furrow. "You klutz. You should be more careful around the furniture." His frown deepened when she ignored him, just continued with her head bent over her injured foot. "What's the matter? You're not hurt bad, are you? I didn't hear anything break."

She shook her head. "No, nothing like that. But I think I have a…" She trailed off as she looked up to find him crouched next to her chair, trying to see around her hands. It was the closest he'd gotten to her since she'd almost collapsed the day she awoke. For a split-second, breathing was difficult. In her distraction, her thumb brushed over a spot somewhere near her big toe and she winced, pulling her hand away. "Splinter," she finished belatedly, glaring at the sliver, marked by a small red welt rising on her skin. "See?" She pointed helpfully.

He examined the red mark, then snorted, giving her an exasperated look. "You can't walk on that." He glanced at the table with a scowl. "Damn. There must be a rough spot somewhere. I'll find it and sand it tomorrow." He gave one last critical glance at her foot, then stood. "All right. Don't move."

Her eyes followed him as he went over to the sink, mumbling something to himself. She strained her ears, but only caught the words 'humans' and 'weak'. He ran the water for a few moments, then returned with a wet paper towel in hand. He didn't look at her as he returned to the his crouch at her side. "Your foot is all dirty. We have to clean it before the splinter comes out, or it might get infected."

She nodded, and he reached out and grasped at her foot. Pushing up the leg of her jeans so that his long fingers could wrap around her ankle, he angled it so he could see better in the faint light. Her eyelids flickered and her hands curled reflexively around the seat's edge, startled as her stomach twisted at the contact; then the textured warmth of the paper towel began swiping over her skin, grabbing her attention. Slowly, carefully, he rubbed at the dirt around her toes and the arch of her foot, taking extra care around the small red spot at the base of her big toe.

Kagome just stared mutely. His touch was light, and his head bent slightly over his task. His hair fell forward so that she couldn't see his expression, hiding his features behind a wall of silver and shadows. He didn't speak again; he simply continued his ministrations in silence as she sat unmoving.

The faint chafing of the paper towel as it smoothed over the curves of her foot sounded loudly in the her ears. With each pass, water left a fine layer of damp that cooled instantly in the chill of the room, and she suppressed a startled shiver. _When…did it get so cold in here?_ In contrast, the heat of his hand wrapped around her ankle seemed to burn.

The quiet around them grew thick, heavy with some confusing, foreign expectancy that wrapped around them like an invisible cocoon. Kagome was surprised to find her breathing had grown slow and shallow, the cadence of her lungs unconsciously mimicking the rhythm of the hand that cleaned her foot. Her tongue slipped between her lips, moistening their suddenly dry texture and attempting to distract herself from the strange pulling sensation in her lower belly.

Her gaze focused with fascination on his claws. His fingers shackled her loosely, and the startling, razor-sharp talons at their ends rested gently against her skin. He was cautious of them--only the tiniest pinpricks of pressure gave any indication of their presence at all. They looked strong and dangerous, and she wondered fleetingly how much damage they could do.

He finished wiping away the dirt to his satisfaction, then tossed the paper towel onto the table. "Don't move." He muttered them, the same words as before but heavier in tone, more rough-edged than before. Still, he refused to look at her. His fingers skimmed over her skin, his hand moving from her ankle to her foot; his thumb pressed lightly into the bottom of her arch, while his fingers applied the same pressure from the opposite side. Her toes spread slightly in reaction, then she felt the sharp tips of his claws plucking at the splinter imbedded in her skin.

She stilled, eyes widening and lips parting, but whatever protest she had died in her throat as she felt the extreme care he took, the gentle way he maneuvered his claws around the wood so he wouldn't tear at her skin. He was surprisingly deft with them, and within minutes had managed to grasp at the sliver. She winced again as it slid from her skin, then relaxed as the pain receded almost immediately.

For a moment they both sat like statues in the dark, unmoving in the quietly charged atmosphere of the kitchen. Then he gave a soft 'tsk', and the pad of one finger dabbed at the blood welling up after the splinter.

The tiny touch ran like an electric shock through her entire system, and her lungs suddenly burned, reminding her to breathe. At her sharply indrawn breath, he looked up, and their gazes locked with a distinct spark of awareness. She felt his fingers tighten on her foot--a brief, involuntary pressure that let up almost as quickly as it started.

Abruptly, he looked away. He spoke, rising from his crouch on the floor. "You're fine now. Get out of here before you hurt anything else, will ya? I got other things to do besides patch you up, you know."

The unexpected curtness of his words stung slightly, but his manner remained gentle as he stood. His hand released her foot slowly, fingers dragging away from the skin; the barest scrape of his claws was the last thing she felt before he turned away, and the sensation zinged upward from her foot, dancing briefly with every nerve in her body. Snagging up the mugs on the table in one hand, he walked over to deposit them in the sink.

She blinked as she stared after him, heart thudding at a curiously fast pace, eyes wide as she absorbed his sudden departure. Without his body heat crowding close, she suddenly felt cold. Biting her lip, she glanced down at her foot, then dropped it to the ground. Cautiously, she stood, keeping the majority of her weight on her left foot as she tested her right. The bottom of her foot was a little sore, but it was nothing to bother with now that the splinter was gone. By morning, she'd probably have forgotten it was ever there.

She cast a glance at InuYasha, to where he stood at the sink, rinsing out the cups. _Or not._ She doubted she'd forget that he'd finally had a real conversation with her…and she felt a distinct loss at the absence of his hands on her skin. Flexing her toes on the bare wood of the floor, she cleared her throat in an effort to dispel the tension lingering in the air. His ears twisted, flicking back toward her, but he didn't turn. "Thank you…for taking that out for me."

She caught an odd, shrugging motion of his shoulders, but his only response was an indifferent, muted, "Keh."

She stared at him for a moment longer, but he didn't do anything else to acknowledge her. Sighing, she turned and left the room, her gait careful of her wounded foot. Still, she was smiling as she made her way into the small, square room that was slowly becoming hers, closing herself in the dark without bothering to find a light. Hobbling over to the corner where the futon still lay out from the night before, she collapsed onto the covers.

She'd made some progress. He'd talked to her without growling at her, and told her something about himself, even if he had gone back to his suspicion at the end. She had hope that eventually, if she just kept trying, he would drop it altogether and regard her as a friend.

Maybe staying here would be ok after all.

* * *

He shut off the water and rested his elbows against the sink's edge, staring at the curtains covering the window directly in front of him, waiting for his body functions to go back to normal, for the burning heat coursing through his bloodstream to fade.

Touching her had to be the stupidest thing he'd done in a long time. He scowled. Correction--coming into the room in the first place, even when he knew she was in here, had been the stupidest. He should have just left the hallway the second he caught her scent.

It was the crash, that damned bucket that she couldn't carry on her own. He'd thought she'd hurt herself, and before he knew it, he'd found himself in the room. Then she'd seen him, and it had been to late to leave. His scowl turned on the fridge as the memory of his idiotic rummaging returned. He'd had a reason for being in here in the first place…but damned if he could remember what it was. Her eyes, widened in stunned awareness, had wiped that bit of information from his brain the second they'd locked with his.

She'd just looked so tired.

He'd been doing so well all week. Avoiding her, staying out of the same room, not watching her…well, not watching her _too_ much, anyway. He'd been hoping that eventually, the strange pull she had on him would fade, and he could pretend she wasn't around at all, just like he did with most of the guests.

But tonight she'd looked so worn-out, had smelled so exhausted--and smell was so much harder for him to ignore than looks--that he'd just found himself helping. The mess, the bucket, then that _stupid_ argument about dirty towels.

_Damn it to hell_. Miroku was never going to let him forget that, either.

His gaze drifted to the opening through which she'd disappeared. His lip curled. Infuriatingly stupid woman…working too hard, even though she was still recovering. Hell, her bandage had only come off yesterday. That fucking wound on her head still look fucking _raw_, for gods' sake! No one would blame her for taking it easy for a while. But no, she had to work herself to the bone, then make him feel guilty for calling her on it--by _apologizing_!

Maybe that was why he'd stayed when she suggested cocoa. He still couldn't figure out what'd happened there--he'd opened his mouth, fully intending to say no, then get the hell away from her…only to hear himself say yes.

She made good cocoa, though.

He picked up the mugs and started drying them off with some new paper towels from the roll he'd left by the sink. His fingers clung to the feel of the paper towel the same way they'd clung to her skin…even after he'd tried to let go.

Except her skin felt so much better than a paper towel.

He scowled again, viciously, as the memory re-kindled the subtle burning in his blood, and almost threw the mug in retaliation. What the hell had he been thinking? After being so determined all week, why had he given in and touched her?

_Because the alternative was carrying her to her **bed**, idiot._

He grimaced, and picked up the second mug to dry it. She wasn't the problem here. It was him. Him and his increasing preoccupation with her. She'd taken to the Sachi and its residents so quickly. He couldn't figure it out.

She'd woken up with no memory, no past, and no direction. Nothing. But within the space of a week, she'd managed to become pretty comfortable with everyone. Kaede trusted her. The brat adored her. And--while Miroku might not trust her yet--he'd had to watch his manager like a hawk just to make sure he was staying more than an arm's length away from her. Even the guests liked her.

She didn't brood, she didn't sulk--hell, she hadn't even cried. The damn woman was always smiling. Smiling at Kaede as they cooked a meal, smiling at Shippou when he proudly displayed his latest drawing, smiling at Miroku when he said something charming. She'd even smiled at him…and she had a nice smile. She'd just slipped right into their routine as if she belonged with them, and it baffled him how. It had taken him _months_ just to accept the Sachi as a living space, much less a home.

Then again, maybe not remembering helped…

He turned and set both mugs in the first empty cupboard space he found, frowning.

…If indeed she didn't remember. They still had no evidence--none at all, not even from her--that she was anything but what she said she was. They had no way to prove anything one way or the other.

He left the kitchen, working his way through the Sachi's darkened, random hallways to his room at the very back, a route he'd long since memorized. His ears twitched absently to catch the familiar sounds of people shifting in their sleep, assuring him he was the last one awake. Even Miroku's computer was silent, left closed tight at his desk in the front hall.

The worst part of it was, he was starting to believe her. And that, more than anything, was breaking down his resistance to having anything to do with her. The more he watched her, the more he accepted her. The more he accepted her, the more he found himself drawn to her. Not even his initial hostility to the eerily similar face was proving any hindrance; she was just so different--in bearing, in mannerism, and most importantly in scent--that he couldn't hold on to it.

The door to his room shoved closed behind him, and he immediately crossed the tatami matting to the sliding doors--his room being one of the only ones with a set of doors leading directly outside--and threw them open. He stared outside at the evergreens, darkened almost black in the night, spreading over the uneven rolls of hills and mountains that stretched into the distance. Still green, although Miroku and Kaede were both predicting snow any day now.

_He hadn't wanted to let go of her foot._

His eyes closed, remembering, as his hands clenched tightly. He'd had to force himself to get up and walk away from her, to ignore the tempting shift in her scent the moment he'd touched her. The faint, perilously enticing richness that had curled into the air around her as his fingers had glided over her skin.

And now the memory wouldn't leave him alone.

_Damn, damn, damn!_

The pull was growing. The bizarre desire to be around her was getting stronger. He was dangerously close to desire--for someone he _trusted_ less than he could _throw_.

And that was something he couldn't afford.

* * *

A/N: All right, I was beginning to think this would never be ready to post. I was going for a specific feel here, so I hope it turned out all right. As always, any feedback, comments, and/or questions are always welcome. Hope you enjoy.

stretches before sitting back down at her computer Ok. Let's see what else I can get written during the rest of my day off. Oh, and for all of you in the U.S., Happy Memorial Day! :D

As always, Quill


	5. Shogi

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

"Are you planning on hiding in this tree forever? Because it's going to get very uncomfortable once the snow finally starts falling. And as cold as it gets up here, even a hanyou like yourself will feel it."

Ten minutes. It had taken ten minutes for Miroku to break his silence. Ten minutes of doing nothing but staring up at his employer's perch in the branches. His manager had gone to all the trouble of searching through the forest to find his favorite spots…and then he just stood there for ten long, annoying minutes of disconcerting, expectant silence. _Damn monk._

He didn't respond.

"You've been up there all day. Even you must be getting tired of it." A pause, and still no response. "Dinner will be ready soon."

He grunted, but otherwise ignored the offhand comment. He had one booted foot propped negligently along the thick branch that was his seat, while the other hung loose in the air. He was on his fourth tree of the day, his butt had gone numb about two hours ago, the temperature was dropping in rapid proportion to the fading of the sunlight, and still he felt no inclination to move. He just continued to stare into the cold, darkening sky.

The pale threads of light still remaining were of the faintest blends of pink and orange, dotted sporadically with the first bright pinpoints of the night. It was one of the things he liked best about Hokkaido. The clarity of the skies; the untamed wildness of nature here. It was so different from Tokyo--so different from the crazy patterns and fast-paced rhythms of the city. The peace and simplicity were things he craved.

Miroku waited a few moments, then sighed and leaned his back against the trunk of the tree companionably. "She's a good cook. Kagome, I mean."

His jaw clenched. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to talk about _ her._

She was haunting him.

In the several days since their little encounter in the kitchen, he'd been doing his absolute best to ignore her. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get away from her. Somehow, everywhere he went, she was there, smiling gently and asking little questions--offering a snack in the kitchen, a drink in the storage room, or watching him while he finished fixing the latest broken fixture in the bath. Even outside, as she was hanging the laundry while it was still warm enough to do so during the day without the cloth freezing, he felt her eyes following him.

And even when she wasn't there, her godsdamned scent was. Her extremely unique smell was starting to linger in all the passageways, gathering in all the common areas as she left her touch on Sachi. It was driving him nuts.

He'd retreated to the forest for a little reprieve after he'd run into her this morning. She'd been on her way to the bath--disheveled hair tumbling around her shoulders, eyes drowsy with sleep, dressed in nothing but her yukata--and she'd still had the nerve to give him a warm, if somewhat self-conscious, smile. And she'd smelled so damned good. He scowled at the memory. _Who the fuck takes a bath in the morning?_ She couldn't take it at night, like normal people did after a hard day's work?

Never mind the fact that the only reason he'd run into her was because he was on his way _out_ of the men's bath. He _always_ washed early in the morning--an effort on his part to avoid the people who came later in the day. Everyone knew that.

Seriously, the bitch was haunting him.

"We're having nabe tonight. I don't know what she and Kaede have put in it, but it smells _absolutely delicious_."

He rolled his eyes at the exaggerated tone. Yeah, ok. He was hungry. He'd been away from Sachi all day. So what? It wasn't like he was planning on starving.

"You really should try her food fresh, you know. I'm sure it tastes even better around the table with friends than it does sitting alone with a reheated bowl at midnight."

His brows snapped into a frown, and he shifted from his comfortable slump to stare down at his friend. "Do you actually want something?"

Dark violet eyes drifted up as Miroku's head tilted back against the rough bark. "I want you to get over it and stop sulking."

"I'm not sulking." Unfortunately, his tone was in direct contradiction to his words. He internalized a wince, and fell quiet for a moment before speaking in a much more rational voice. "You can't tell me you trust her."

Miroku sighed again, this time long and heavy. "Trust her? Honestly, I don't know. But I _can_ tell you that if she isn't who she says she is, then the only way to find out why she's here is to get to know her better. We'll never find out anything by hiding."

"I'm not hiding!" Again, he was using that petulant tone, and this time he couldn't prevent his grimace. _Damn. I sound like a fucking six-year-old._

"Uh-huh." Deep violet eyes rolled. "Prove it. Eat dinner with us." He considered for half a moment. "And after that, a few of the chairs in the front living room _may_ have developed a…um…wobble."

He blinked. _A wobble?_ "Keh!" He scowled. Everything had been fine this morning. "What? You can't function without me for one day? What happened?"

Amusement colored his manager's tone. "Shippou decided that since you weren't around, it would be ok to experiment with lighting the fireplace with his kitsune-bi. His aim was a little off."

"What?!" He sat up straight.

Miroku chuckled. "It's ok. We managed to put out the fire before it did too much damage--although, foxfire isn't quite the same as regular fire, which was interesting. I had to pull out a few old tricks to get it all out." He paused. "Kagome and Kaede patched up the all the burns, and everyone is fine. We're giving everyone a free night's stay to make up for the scare." He sounded less than happy with that last bit.

InuYasha settled back against the tree, shaking his head. _A wobble, huh?_ "That little brat." _What a pain._ Then he sighed. "Oi, Miroku."

"Hmm?"

He waited for a few moments, making sure he wanted to ask before he spoke. "What do you think of her?"

The answering silence told him he'd succeeded in surprising his friend with the question. Miroku's dark, indigo gaze studied the ground at his feet, tracing absently over the slanted, rocky mixture of grass, twigs, and earth. "I think…that I'm surprised by how much I like her. I thought…I expected I'd have a hard time with her--looking as she does. But…most of the time, I don't even think about it. I don't feel uneasy with her at all." He looked back at InuYasha, who was frowning--not scowling, but frowning--seriously, thoughtfully. His volume lowered. "Of course, I imagine it's different for you. After all, you were the one who was directly involved. I only watched from the sidelines."

His lip curled slightly. "Feh. You never even liked her."

"No. I was never quite…comfortable with her. There was always something off about…." Miroku shrugged a little deeper into the fleece of his jacket and shifted uncomfortably, leaving the rest of his words unsaid. He didn't have to say them. They hung in the air as if someone had shouted them to echo off the surrounding mountains.

InuYasha bit back a snarl at the reminder. His fingers dug into the rough wood beneath him and he pushed back the memories, unwilling to deal with them at the moment. "And Kagome?"

Miroku's hands stuffed into his pockets as he blew out a breath, watching the resulting cloud of moisture as it floated through the freezing air. "I wish I could tell for sure. She's a hard worker. I don't sense anything amiss about her--and she certainly is beautiful…but alas, beauty doesn't always reveal truth. Although…. Perhaps if I were allowed to examine--" A sharp growl cut him off, and he cleared his throat. "Yes, well…. You said she's not lying--has that changed?"

Irritated, he shook his head. "Don't you think I would have said something if it had?"

In response, the other man pushed away from the tree, glancing up as he straightened from his slouch. "Well, then. Nothing more to do except keep on with what we're doing. I, for one, am glad for our mysterious visitor. I'm extremely interested to see what happens next. It's been getting kind of boring around here recently." He turned to walk away. "You really should come to dinner."

He growled again.

Miroku's dark head gave a fatalistic tilt as he started making his way back down the steep ground, heading for where the Sachi sat nestled into the side of the mountain. "Suit yourself." Then he shook his head, his expression mournful. "I never thought I'd see the day that you let a face scare you into hiding."

"I'm not fucking hiding!" He yelled--but Miroku was already rapidly being swallowed up by the surrounding trees. He glanced back up at the sky, now a deep hue of purple, before murmuring to himself and the surrounding foliage. "It's not her face that bothers me."

* * *

It was a surprise to everyone but Miroku when InuYasha joined them in the kitchen only a few minutes after they'd started eating. Conversation stopped as everyone paused in what they were doing. Shippou's chopsticks hung in the air halfway to his mouth. Miroku glanced up from his contemplation of his food. Kaede's hands hesitated in the act of smoothing out the napkin in her lap. Kagome simply blinked, halfway through the act of serving herself rice, a twist of nerves and the sudden impact of his presence making her feel clumsy.

All eyes turned to stare as the sliding doors scraped open and a disgruntled-looking hanyou stepped inside on a draft of chill air--feet bare, boots abandoned out on the porch.

He stopped when he found himself the center of attention, then glared in the general direction of the table, where all four of the Sachi's staff had gathered around the large clay pot that held their dinner. "What?"

Shippou, sitting on a stack of books that had been placed on his chair so that he could comfortably reach his bowl, blinked wide green eyes. "It's about time you showed up. Where've you been all day anyway?"

He snorted, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the countertop. "Out."

"Humph." Shippou gave an indignant frown and crossed his arms, only narrowly missing poking himself in the face with his chopsticks. "Some boss you are--vanishing without telling anyone, being unreachable for an entire day. What if something happened?"

Golden eyes sliced to the little youkai. "You mean something like some idiot setting a living room on _fire_?" A growl underlined his words.

Shippou's impudence dropped away as he realized too late that bringing attention to himself was a mistake. He shrank back, trying to hide behind his bowl. "Eep! It was an accident, I swear…" He paused, then peered defensively over the food. "Who told you, anyway?" His eyes narrowed at Miroku, who sat in the chair next to his. "It was _you_, wasn't it?"

Miroku looked up with an innocent expression. "You mean I wasn't supposed to? And here I thought that was part of a manager's job."

Shippou gave him a pathetic look. "You didn't have to tell him right away!"

"Tch." InuYasha grabbed a bowl of his own, then gave the little youkai a sharp rap to the side of his head as he took the seat beside him, completely ignoring the wail that resulted from the physical reprimand. Kagome winced for him. "I would have known the second I came anywhere near Sachi anyway. It reeks of smoke." He scowled. "Damn it, Shippou, how many times have I told you to keep that shit in the forest? With all the wood everywhere, this place is a fucking tinderbox."

He was already reaching for the food as he spoke. His head turned to follow the movement of his hand…and he froze as, for the first time since their slightly awkward encounter that morning, gold connected with gray over the clay pot in the center of the table.

Kagome found she couldn't move, as if someone had paralyzed all the muscles in her body. She couldn't even blink. His eyes…they were regarding her with the same peculiar intensity that they'd held that morning when he'd nearly run into her on her way to the bath. It had been a bit of a shock--the only thought in her head had been to get clean, since she'd been so tired she'd skipped her bath last night. When she woke up earlier than normal, feeling grimy and dirty, she'd decided to use the extra time to her advantage.

She honestly hadn't expected to run into him coming out of the bath. The sight of him--dressed only in a yukata similar in style to hers, damp hair clinging down his back and along his shoulders, a shade darker than its normal white-silver--lingered with crystal clarity in her mind. She'd frozen this morning, too--stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped thinking. She'd simply stood there in the quiet of the hallway as his eyes had drifted over her body with the same look they held now. She'd thought--or maybe imagined?--that she'd heard a growl. Then, to her surprise and dismay, he had turned away from her and stormed off.

All day, the incident had been intruding on her thoughts, random instances that rose up to distract when she wasn't paying attention. All day, she'd been alternating between worry that she'd offended him, and indignation at his rudeness. And now…he was back, and he was _staring_ at her again. Delicately, she swallowed, trying to settle the urge to squirm as her stomach knotted. From the slight shift of his gaze to her throat, she knew he hadn't missed it.

For a scant second, neither of them moved--a hesitation not missed by one of the people sitting around the table with them. Miroku exchanged looks with Kaede, while Shippou just eyed the two curiously.

Oblivious to the interaction around them, and desperately fighting a blush, Kagome offered him a little smile. "Welcome home."

At the greeting, he blinked; then he seemed to give himself a mental shake and shrugged. "I wasn't gone that long." Ignoring the slight frown that flickered through her gaze at his reply, he reached out and started grabbing meat and vegetables from the soup in the pot.

"Just all day." Shippou decided that since InuYasha's focus had shifted to food, he was safe to join in once again. "What were you doing, anyway?"

He rolled his eyes in obvious irritation. "Thinking up creative ways to punish young arsonists," he groused.

Miroku raised an eyebrow and Kaede chuckled as Shippou's head immediately swooped back down over his food. Kagome bit her lip to hold in a smile, and picked up her chopsticks. "It really isn't that bad, you know. You can hardly tell that anything was burnt."

"Indeed. Except for the two chairs that no one can sit on, the burn marks on the floor, and the persistent, lingering smell of smoke." Miroku picked up his cup and shot a displeased look at the kitsune. "And then, of course, there are the Amigawas, who will be enjoying our hospitality for free tonight, thanks to some burns on their hands." Shippou gave a squeak, and--for lack of anything better to do--started shoveling food into his mouth.

"Only slight burns, though," Kagome added quickly, watching Shippou with some concern as he plucked up yet another slice of radish to add to his already stuffed cheeks. "They didn't even require bandages."

InuYasha gave another snort, eyeing the kit as he swallowed without chewing and nearly choked. "Oi, Shippou, be careful. If you die, you won't be able to work off the damages."

Shippou's eyes rounded, and his chopsticks paused in his bowl. "W-work…off?"

Miroku gave a benign smile, brushing casually at the loose cuff of his dress shirt. "Don't worry, Shippou. I'm sure it won't be _too_ bad. He'll probably just put you on garbage disposal duty, or maybe roof repair--you know how it's been leaking." His smile only widened when another choking sound emitted from the kit's throat. "Nothing too difficult, I'm sure."

The hanyou scowled and poked at his food. "Actually, I was thinking I'd lock him in the women's bath until he's cleaned it--with a toothbrush."

Shippou paled, then glanced down at his food. His face suddenly seemed to take on a peculiar tinge of green.

Kagome almost choked herself. InuYasha sounded grim, and his expression looked sincerely furious. The idea that little Shippou could clean the women's bath all by himself was patently absurd, yet he'd sounded so serious when he'd said it. If he hadn't given himself away with the quick, sarcastic glance at the culprit, she might have believed him.

Poor Shippou obviously did.

Amusement welled in her throat, and she looked down, concentrating on her food. From the corner of her eye, the quick, twitching movement of one white ear caught her attention, and she looked up to find him staring at her again.

She gave him a tiny grin. His scowl didn't budge…but for just an instant, she thought she saw a softening in his gaze….

Kaede chuckled again. "The possibility appears to be disturbing Shippou's digestive system. Perhaps we should drop the subject of punishment until after our meal?"

And just like that, the brief hint of humor was gone. Swallowing her disappointment, Kagome returned her focus to her meal.

* * *

"Oi! That's cheating, you bastard!"

"I assure you that move is perfectly legal. We have the rule book right here. Look it up if you like."

A snort sounded, and then a disgruntled, "_You'd_ find a way to cheat even if it _wasn't_ cheating."

A put-upon sigh. "I'm hurt at the insinuation. I truly am. It's not my fault you don't remember half the rules of the game."

"I know the damn _rules_," came the dark reply.

"Actually, Miroku's right, InuYasha. That move _is_ legal."

"Be quiet, runt!"

Out in the hallway, having just finished helping Kaede with the dishes and the cleaning for the night, Kagome paused, then smiled. She wondered if they were still playing the same game of shogi that they'd started almost an hour ago.

As soon as dinner had finished, InuYasha had headed for the doors, obviously intent on returning to his seclusion outside. Kagome had watched him go regretfully, figuring she wouldn't see him again for at least another day. Miroku had surprised her, though, by stopping the hanyou with a casual challenge to a game--which InuYasha had promptly rebuked. But to Kagome's amazement, all it had taken was a few careful insinuations from Miroku, and some (rather unwise) outright taunts from Shippou before all three males of the Sachi had moved over to the empty dining room located one hallway over. The guests usually ate there, but the few they had at the moment had decided to eat in Sounkyo that night.

"Check. Again."

"Just shut up!"

"What? I'm supposed to tell you when you're in check, you know."

It sounded like the game wasn't going so well for InuYasha--just as Shippou had promised it wouldn't.

Pressing her lips together curiously, she walked the few steps to the entrance. She stopped just outside the open doors, blinking at the newest wooden sign on the wall.

'Warning: Wood Fire. In case of emergency, seek out nearest Miroku'.

An involuntary grin curved her lips at the sudden memory of Miroku, looking slightly burned, slightly triumphant, and more than slightly irritated after the fire earlier that afternoon. She shook her head, marveling that Shippou actually had the guts to put something like that up for anyone to see.

Drawing a deep breath, Kagome peeked her head around the corner. The dining room was a small, square room, with painted walls, tatami matting, and low wooden tables. The only seats consisted of large, cushioned pillows grouped around the tables for guests to sit or kneel on. InuYasha and Miroku had set up their game on the table farthest to the right, near the shoji door that opened out onto another hallway on the other side of the room.

The two men sat opposite each other--Miroku with an arm propped casually on the table, InuYasha sitting cross-legged with his hands pressing down against either knee--both with their sleeves pushed up around their elbows, both staring intently at the pieces dotting randomly across the board. Or rather, Miroku stared. InuYasha glared. Shippou sat on top of the table and off to the side, alternating between watching them play, and consulting the small book that sat in his lap.

Still smiling, Kagome stepped inside.

Shippou saw her first, as he glanced up from his book to comment. "Kagome! Are you and Kaede done cleaning? Have you come to watch Miroku crush InuYasha?"

Miroku looked up as well, his expression brightening when he saw her. "Please, come in, Kagome. I always play so much better with a pretty face around." He hesitated. "Where is Kaede?"

"She's in the front living room. She said she had some reading she wanted to do." She walked over and knelt onto a cushion a next to Shippou--which must have put her a bit too close to InuYasha for his liking, because his posture immediately stiffened. "Hello, Shippou. Miroku." She hesitated. "InuYasha."

He still didn't respond. He'd been ignoring her since the topic of conversation at dinner had turned from Shippou to the guests and booking for the upcoming month. He hadn't said a word to her since the few he'd growled upon his arrival to the kitchen. It was starting to get annoying.

She sighed. And she'd honestly been hoping he'd lighten up after dinner, too.

Giving a slight roll of her eyes, she decided not to let him bother her. For weeks, she'd been trying to get him to relax around her, and the only progress she'd made had been that one night in the kitchen, and--maybe--earlier at the table. If he didn't want to be her friend, fine. But she had others, and his surliness wouldn't prevent her from being with _them_. She turned to Shippou. "What's the score?"

Shippou shook his head, scooting a bit closer across the table so that he was sitting by her arms. "You don't keep score with shogi. You either win or you lose."

Kagome blinked. "Oh. Well then, who's--"

A growl interrupted stopped the words in her throat. Her eyes widened as she took a sidelong glance at the hanyou a few feet away from her. Shippou just smirked. "So far, InuYasha's been in check _four_ _times_. Right now, Miroku has more of InuYasha's pieces in play than InuYasha does of Miroku's. It's InuYasha's turn, but I don't expect much."

Kagome nodded, not really sure what that meant, other than Miroku was winning…she thought.

Miroku seemed to understand her uncertainty, because he grinned. "He's putting up a good fight, though. He's had me in check twice now. Not many people are able to come back and check me after I've put them in check once, much less multiple times."

Feeling completely lost, she studied the board and the seemingly haphazard arrangement of flat, wedge-shaped pieces. Each piece was painted with various Japanese characters--representing their uses in the game, she was sure--most of which were black, although a few were red. As she watched, InuYasha reached out and moved another piece, flipping it over to reveal a red version.

"Oooo." Shippou looked down at his book and flipped a few pages. "He promoted his bishop. That was actually a smart move--especially for InuYasha."

Golden eyes flashed over in an irritated glance. "How many times have I told you to shut it, brat?"

Shippou blinked at him thoughtfully. "I don't know. More times than I can remember."

"And you're _still_ talking."

"I know." Shippou nodded, readily agreeing to the gritted comment. "You'd really think you'd learn to stop wasting your breath. Pretty stupid, if you ask me."

With another growl, the hanyou made a swipe for the kitsune, but Shippou had already leapt behind Kagome, and was peeking around the scarf that she'd used to cover her braid. Kagome found herself staring in surprise at wide golden eyes. She blinked. Almost reflexively, he blinked back, then turned away with a snort, anger disarmed.

Miroku watched from the other side of the table as he reached out and casually placed and extra piece on the board. InuYasha frowned at the move, and Kagome jumped when Shippou crowed. "Hah. Another drop. Now Miroku is in a much better position to take out some of InuYasha's more powerful pieces."

Kagome felt her brow furrow. "Drop?"

Miroku smiled at her. "A term used to describe a move in the game. It's basically one player taking an opposing player's captured piece and making it his own piece by putting it back on the board."

"Oh." That…actually made sense.

Shippou leapt from the table to the top of her head, landing so lightly she almost didn't feel him. He leaned over a bit. "Kagome, don't you know anything about shogi?"

"How the hell is she supposed to know that, runt? She doesn't remember anything before the Sachi."

Surprised, Kagome glanced over at the hanyou. It was only the second comment he'd made today that even acknowledged her presence. His gaze remained firmly fixed on the game.

She sighed again. "I don't know, Shippou. I don't…think so. It doesn't feel familiar."

"Oh?" Miroku once again looked up from his turn, focusing his dark eyes on Kagome. "Would you like to learn?"

She blinked at him. "Learn? Me?"

Shippou jumped down to the table so he could look her in the face. His blond pouf of a tail waggled with excitement. "Yeah! We could teach you, Kagome. You're bound to be a better player than that _hanyou_ is."

A snarl sounded, and before he could react, he was snatched off the table and found himself dangling in the air, face-to-face with the previously mentioned, thoroughly _irate_ hanyou. "I've had it with you, runt!" A swift cuff to the top of his head had the smaller youkai moaning and rubbing his head. When he returned the knock with a defiant glare, he got a second lump to match the first.

Kagome started to protest, but Miroku was already shaking his head. "Don't start complaining now, Shippou. You've had this coming and you know it. You've been pushing his buttons all night long."

Another growl rumbled in InuYasha's throat. "Just what the hell is your problem, anyway?"

Shippou risked another glare through green eyes edged with tears of pain, indignation in every line of his body. "You're going to make me clean the _women's_ bath with a _toothbrush_! The women's bath is…filled with _women_! And it's huge! I can't do that all by myself--I'm just a kid!"

Surprise washed over the table. Kagome's lips parted slightly, and she glanced first at Miroku, who had immediately ducked to hide his expression behind his clasped hands, then to InuYasha. A look of astonishment had overtaken the anger on his face as he stared at the child hanging from his hand.

Then his eyes darted to meet her wide ones…and this time she was sure of it. It was plain as day. Humor, a flare of amusement, gleamed in his eyes--a brief acknowledgement that the kitsune was the only one present who didn't realize that the comment hadn't been serious. For just an instant, a feeling of camaraderie mingled in the air between them. Kagome offered him a tiny smile, one she could swear he actually _accepted_, before his eyes turned away, narrowing back on the kit.

Reaching out, he dropped Shippou back onto the table with an irritated snort. "Keh. Would you rather clean it with your tongue?"

Kagome had yet to see Shippou look so panicked. Again, she would have protested, thinking the threat cruel when he was already scared; but before she could say anything, Shippou's eyes went huge, and he got down on his knees and kow-towed repeatedly. "N-no. Please don't make me do _that_! I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

"Huh." InuYasha suddenly looked bored, resting an elbow on the table and propping his chin in his hand as he again turned his attention to the game. "Fine. You're forgiven. But the next time you're upset over something, don't fucking take it out on me."

Shippou's bowing stopped, and he peeked up at the older youkai. "Really?"

InuYasha didn't even bother to look back as he responded. "I just said it, didn't I?"

Shippou sat up for a minute, looking very relieved and slightly thoughtful. "Do I still have to clean the," he cringed, "women's bath with a toothbrush?"

A hush fell over the adults at the table. Kagome bit her lip, but was unwilling to say anything. Miroku gave up trying to hide his reaction, grinning widely and giving a little shake of his head. Still, Shippou just looked at them. Finally, impassive golden eyes rolled. "I was never going to make you clean the bath by yourself, runt."

Green eyes widened. "Really?"

Miroku gave another chuckle, then reached out and picked up one of the shogi pieces from the board. "You should have just apologized in the first place, Shippou. You know it's never as bad when you do." He studied the piece, his hold a little awkward with the stiff grip of his damaged fingers. "I believe the agreed upon punishment was you working for Kaede for the next few weeks."

"Oh." Shippou looked so shocked, that Kagome couldn't resist the grin that curled her lips. Shippou glanced over at her, then back at the two men staring at the board. "Can't I work for Kagome instead?"

Two sets of eyes--one pale, annoyed amber, one not-so-amused violet--turned as one on Shippou. He shrank back. "Never mind."

InuYasha 'keh'd' while Miroku turned his gaze back to the game. After a moment, he brightened. "InuYasha?"

"Hm?"

The piece was set down on a square with a clack. "I believe that is check and mate."

"What?" InuYasha straightened, looked carefully at the arranged pieces, then slumped back with a sigh. "_Damn_."

Shippou edged back over to the board. "Wow. That makes Miroku's eighty-third straight victory since we came to the Sachi."

Kagome had leaned forward to see what a 'check and mate' looked like, but his words caught her attention before she could even attempt to decipher the board. She looked down at him. "Straight?" In response, Shippou nodded absently. "You mean InuYasha's _never_ won a game?"

"Not once." Miroku grinned, his arms reaching above his head for a stretch. "But don't think that means he's a poor shogi player. Like I said, I've never had anyone nearly beat me after check before I met InuYasha. He's just too stubborn to lose easily." His grin widened. "Of course, he'd be an even better player if he'd learn to strengthen his defense properly instead of focusing so much on offense."

"Keh." InuYasha straightened, pushing away from the table and standing in one motion. "You make it sound easy. Damned monk's been playing his entire life." He turned away. "Fuck this. I'm going to bed."

Kagome frowned, suddenly curious about something, but before she could say anything, her attention was drawn by the loud clatter as Miroku cleared the board and began separating the flat pieces into two piles. "Sweet dreams," he called after the departing hanyou. "As for Kagome and I…the night is still young, so I believe we will have quite the good time learning the art form that is shogi."

Kagome didn't see InuYasha pause at the words 'Kagome and I", but Shippou did. He smirked, remembering InuYasha's protectiveness when Kagome had been unable to wake up from her coma. "Yeah. Don't worry about a thing, InuYasha. Miroku and Kagome will be fine staying up all alone here in the dining room."

Miroku shifted the board so that it sat diagonally across the table, now facing Kagome. He pushed one of the piles in her direction. "Here. You be white. I'll be black so that I can go first and show you how it's done. Let me show you the pieces."

He picked up a piece and showed her the character on the face. "This is a pawn. It moves one square forward, never back or to the sides. You have nine." He paused. "I don't suppose you have ever played Western chess? The concept is similar, but the play is a little different." At her blank look, he sighed. "Never mind." He picked up another piece and presented a character. "This is a lance. It moves…" He trailed off, his eyes widening as InuYasha suddenly dropped back onto the pillow that was his seat. "Oh? I thought you were going to bed?"

He was scowling. "Shut up, monk. There's no way I can trust you alone with her." He noticed Kagome's startled gaze, and looked away. "Don't expect me to help, though. I'm just going to watch."

"I see." Shrewd purple eyes turned back to Kagome, amusement glinting in their depths. "Well, then. Shall we continue?" He held up the piece in his hand. "This, is a lance…."

* * *

After a few minutes of biting at her lip in thought, Kagome finally made her decision. Reaching out, she plucked up her rook, and moved it three spaces forward.

Off to her right, she heard a derisive snort. "You should have taken out his lance with the knight."

From her left, a small orange-haired head starting shaking, the short, bow-secured ponytail waving slightly with the movement. "No way, InuYasha. Moving her knight would have left her gold general wide open."

"But it would have given her a direct line to his _king_!"

"And left _her's_ defenseless!" Shippou pointed to the flat tile representing her king, illustrating his point as InuYasha scowled at him. "That was a good move," he insisted.

InuYasha, having long ago abandoned his stiff seat on the cushion for a more comfortable arm-lean against the table, just turned his scowl on the game between them, waiting to see what Miroku would do.

Kagome sighed and looked across at Miroku, who was doing a very poor job of hiding his grin. _Just how in the world did this become a three-on-one tournament?_

It had taken about thirty minutes to explain the game and its rules to her. Miroku had made sure she knew each piece and exactly what it did before he explained the game play, with Shippou chiming in every other sentence or so, earning more than a few glares from her self-proclaimed teacher. Then, after they'd been sure she had the rules and pieces straight, he showed her how to set up the board, and they held a practice match.

InuYasha, true to his word, had done nothing but watch while she learned the mechanics. She knew, because she'd felt his gaze on her the whole time. He'd watched her as she separated her pieces by name, watched her set them out on the board, watched her as she moved each one according to its abilities.

His scrutiny made her nervous and excited all at the same time. She found the rules and the game interesting, and she really felt like she was learning something new. That was a new feeling for her, as for the past few weeks, most of the things she'd done had felt eerily familiar, as if she was simply reviewing something she should already know. A sporting flush warmed her cheeks at the challenge and the proximity. InuYasha sat only about a foot away, and a ticklish shiver--faint, like a soft, warm breath--moved in a steady drift along her spine, a constant reminder of his presence beside her as the game play advanced and her confidence grew.

Of course, it hadn't started out so smoothly. Shippou had disagreed vehemently with her first move, and Miroku concurred, explaining why, and showing what might be a better one. After which, Shippou had disagreed with his suggestion, and he and Miroku gotten into a 'discussion' over what her first move should actually be, and why.

After a few minutes and no clear decision from either the kitsune or the manager, Kagome had been absolutely shocked to feel the pawn in question plucked from her fingers and smacked onto the board--exactly where she had originally intended to put it. She jumped, her head jerking around swiftly to stare at InuYasha. He'd scooted his pillow over some, and was sitting closer than before, jean-clad legs and bare feet crossed beneath him, a look of exasperation on his face. "Oi, idiots. If you wanna help her learn, help her learn during play. She won't learn anything if you never let her start playing."

The arguing had stopped abruptly, and Miroku and Shippou exchanged identically sheepish looks before turning back to the game. Kagome gave InuYasha a small smile (which he'd ignored), then watched as Miroku made his next move, explaining what he was doing and why.

It had actually been fun, taking the time to think out every move, trying to remember what each piece did, and listening carefully as Miroku, Shippou, and eventually even InuYasha had vocalized varying opinions on strategy.

Somewhere along the way, though, their friendly 'practice match' of a game had become a serious test of skills. Somehow, in between debates, both InuYasha and Shippou had become invested in helping her beat Miroku. As the game progressed, and it actually appeared that they might have a chance at winning, play was becoming louder and louder as her two 'advisors' argued more vehemently over each move.

And currently, she was caught, quite literally, right in the middle.

"Why should she listen to you, anyway? _You've_ never won a game against Miroku!"

Golden eyes narrowed at the kitsune across the board. "Have you ever even _played_ a game against Miroku?"

"Well…." Shippou paused to think, but didn't let the question deter him for long. "No. But I've _watched_ plenty of them!"

"Tch. Since when does watching make you an expert?"

Miroku reached out and took another one of her pawns with one of his. "Shippou _is_ very observant, InuYasha. Years ago, for instance, he was the first one to notice that you always move your left knight before your right one--which, if the right pieces are in place, leaves you wide open to attack."

"What?" InuYasha started, then glanced from the board to Miroku to confirm he was telling the truth. He glared at Shippou. "And you never said anything to me?"

Shippou shrugged, still studying the board now that it was Kagome's turn again. "You never asked." He pointed again. "Kagome, you should use your rook again."

InuYasha frowned at Shippou, then looked back at the board. "Oh, but _Miroku_ did?" He shook his head. "No, she should move that pawn next."

"Yeah, he did. It's not my fault you don't care enough to try and figure out your own weaknesses." Shippou scoffed. "The pawn! What good would that do? They would only end up exchanging pieces!"

"It's not that he doesn't care. More like he doesn't realize." After taking in the set-up, Miroku spoke up again. "Actually, Shippou, that's a better move than it looks like. It gives her both a pawn to drop in later, and a better position on the board."

"And leaves her with a possible gap in defense!"

"Which she can always supplement by dropping a few pieces back on the board," Miroku countered.

Shippou frowned while InuYasha smirked. "See, Shippou? Even the monk says I'm right."

Kagome blinked, trying to follow the discussion/argument (as two different ones seemed to be in progress at once) then decided the best course would be to follow InuYasha's advice. As she pushed the pawn up a space, she absently addressed a question that had been on her mind for some time now. "Why does InuYasha call Miroku 'monk' so much of the time?"

An abrupt, tension-filled silence was her answer.

Startled, Kagome looked up. The owner and manager of the Sachi had both gone very still--Miroku's hand actually hung frozen in the air above the board--and were exchanging a strange, speaking look. A glance at Shippou showed the little youkai's head tipped down, his hair hiding his eyes. For several long, drawn-out moments, no one said anything.

Chewing at her lip, she let her gaze drift back over the table, taking in the impassive quality of Miroku's eyes as he stared down at his lap, before settling firmly on InuYasha's guarded frown, which seemed directed more inward than outward. Neither man would actually meet her eyes. The friendly camaraderie that had marked the last hour seemed to have been sucked right out of the room, leaving an uncomfortable strain in its wake.

She felt her brow furrow in confusion and dismay. "I'm…sorry. Did I…say something wrong?"

Shippou suddenly jumped up, shaking off the awkward mood with a toss of his head. "Don't worry, Kagome. You didn't do anything. It's just a stupid nickname InuYasha has for Miroku." He leaned over conspiratorially. "It's cause he has a really strong Buddhist heritage. He's even got spiritual powers." He considered for a minute, both he and Kagome completely oblivious to the look of alarm that passed between the other two males. "Not a lot of people know that, though."

"Oh." Kagome looked uncertain for a minute, not completely satisfied with the explanation. She glanced at Miroku, intrigued. "Really? Spiritual powers?"

He hesitated for just a breath before his tension melted into an easy nod and a smile. "Really. He's been calling me that for years." Another hesitation. "But, like Shippou said, I don't tell many people. I'd appreciate it if…"

She was already nodding. "Of course. I'll keep it to myself. Thank you for sharing it with me." She tilted her head curiously. "Does that kind of power run in your family?"

Miroku nodded again, resuming the game by taking the pawn she'd just put in his path. "Oh, yes. In fact, we have a proud tradition of powerful monks in our lineage--another reason why our oh-so-kind employer calls me what he does. He seems to find it odd that I'm descended from a long line of holy men, although I can't imagine why."

"Keh. _Holy_ _men_ my ass. That's not what I heard." The sarcastic tone left no doubt what he thought of that statement.

Shippou cocked his head. "He _does_ seem to have an awful lot of worldly, impure thoughts."

"Now wait a minute," Miroku objected. "I would appreciate it if you would refrain from factual statements that are unproven."

"Keh. You want proof, _monk_? _I_ can give you proof."

InuYasha's offer gave Miroku pause, and for a moment, he looked extremely uncomfortable. "Ah…no. That won't be necessary."

It was her turn, so Kagome took Miroku's pawn, then stole a look over at the InuYasha, who was currently glaring at the board, looking decidedly stubborn. She smiled faintly. "Your shop back in Tokyo must have been an interesting place to work."

"Tokyo?" Miroku looked up sharply. "Ah…yes." His eyes flitted over his employer, then back to Kagome with a tiny grin. "So he told you about our little store, did he? It was actually _quite_ interesting. He used to call me monk in front of the customers. Can you imagine the looks I got selling bows and arrows while being addressed as monk?"

Kagome smiled, then resisted the urge to grimace as he dropped her own lance back onto the board to use against her. Now she was at a serious disadvantage--she thought--and she took a moment to study the board, hoping for inspiration. "So then…did you know each other well before working together?"

InuYasha shifted beside her, looking restless and displeased, but didn't say a word. Miroku, after another glance at InuYasha, took a minute to think about it. "Well, you could say we knew _of_ each other. Our families have known each other for years. We, uh…didn't actually meet until after I decided to work with InuYasha at the store."

"What made you decide to work with him?" She was very much aware that they were discussing the hanyou as if he wasn't even in the room, but wasn't sure what to do about it. He obviously didn't want to be involved in the conversation.

Miroku shrugged, but Kagome caught the barest hint of a tightening around his mouth. "I needed to do something after graduation, and my father had been expecting me to maintain our families' association since I was a child."

Kagome blinked at him, plagued by the same feeling of oddness that had overtaken her the night that she'd spoken with InuYasha in the kitchen, and unsure why. "So, you started working together because of your father? That must have made him happy."

Miroku's easygoing expression didn't change, but his right hand clenched into a fist, the pressure on his skin so tight that the circular scar on the back of his hand stood out in white relief. "Yes…I'm sure it would have."

Kagome froze, her next question evaporating before it had completely formed on her tongue. _Would have._ Gray eyes widened in dismayed realization, and she looked down, contrition in the set of her shoulders, her voice subdued. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be prying."

Surprisingly, it wasn't Miroku who responded, but a much younger voice beside her. "Don't be upset, Kagome. It's only natural to be curious, isn't it? After all…." A slim fox-paw kicked out self-consciously, coming just shy of knocking into the board. "You don't really have any past of your own, so it makes sense that you'd wonder about the people around you." He paused, his voice lowering, his eyes still hidden by his hair. "It's not your fault some of it makes us sad."

That really didn't do anything to make her feel better. She shook her head. "Still, I shouldn't have been asking questions that are," she risked the barest sidelong glance to her right at InuYasha, who had yet to move a muscle from his intense glare at the board, "none of my business." She sighed and started to push up off her knees. "It's late. I think I'll go to bed now. Shippou, you and Inu--"

Her voice and movement came to an abrupt stop as a hand snagged at her arm. Long fingers wrapped around the slimmest part of her wrist; the lightest prick of claws pressed into the delicate skin. Shocked at the contact, her heart doubled its tempo in her chest, and a faint blush heated her cheeks as her eyes followed the arm back, along a bare forearm, past the cream-colored sleeve bunched at the elbow, to its owner. InuYasha had yet to turn and look at her. He still stared down at the table, and his mouth was set in a grim line. The rest of his expression was hidden by the loose fall of silver hair.

His grip on her arm was warm and firm, and she was well aware that it would do her no good to try and shake it off. So, she just stared at him, both tense and curious to see why he had stopped her.

"Move your rook."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"It's your turn. Move your rook."

"But--"

He finally looked at her--an impatient flash of gold that froze the breath in her lungs--before turning away again. "You started the damn game. You wanted to learn how to play. Why would you quit so close to the end?"

She stared. _He still hadn't released her wrist_. Her lips parted as she drew a slow, deep lungful of air in between them, hoping to calm the deep thudding of her heart and even out her breathing. "It's…" She paused, listening to her own voice to make sure it was steady. "It's ok?"

He rolled his eyes and gave a sharp tug, pulling her from her half-rise back onto the pillow that was her place at the table. "It's _your_ game."

"Of course it is," Miroku agreed dryly. "Obviously."

While InuYasha sent him a dirty look, Shippou jumped onto her shoulder. "Of course it's ok, Kagome. We want you to stay and play." He studied the pieces for a moment. "But don't move your _rook_. That'd be a real stupid move, because no matter where you put it, you'd just lose it without gaining anything."

"It _ain't_ a stupid move." InuYasha shot back immediately. His eyes had narrowed in annoyance, but his voice was even, and held a surprising note of confidence.

Shippou gave him a skeptical look. "Are you looking at the same game I am?"

Miroku frowned, then shook his head. "I can't see anything good coming out of that move. Shippou's right. It'd just be a waste."

"Heh." He turned to her, his manner suddenly, unexpectedly, completely devoid of hostility. "Look, it's your game--we're just advisors. But I'm telling you that you should move your rook four spaces to the right." One of his ears gave a slight twist, and a gleam of pure enthusiasm shone in his eyes. "Trust me."

She blinked, his expression prompting the corners of her mouth to tug upward. Her eyes dropped down slowly, to where his hand still held her wrist captive in the air between their bodies. His gaze followed hers, and his eyes widened. He dropped her arm like it had suddenly burned his palm, and turned away with a huff.

_Trust me._ Unable to curb the full-blown smile that blossomed across her face, Kagome turned back to the game. Reaching out, she picked up the rook…

Shippou shook his head. "Don't do it."

…and moved it four spaces to the right. Ignoring Shippou's cry of dismay, she tipped her head at Miroku. "Your turn."

Throwing a suspicious look at the now smirking InuYasha, he studied the board again, looking carefully for whatever had convinced the hanyou that this was a good move. Then, with a shake of his head, Miroku took her rook--a move which put him dangerously close to her king.

With a fatalistic shrug, Kagome looked back at InuYasha. "Now what?"

"Yeah," Shippou joined in sarcastically. "Now what?"

* * *

Oops…almost forgot these…..

Nabe (nabemono): _Basically, it's a dish with a whole bunch of different ingredients cooked together in a pot, where everyone at the table can choose their favorite ingredients. The Japanese believe that eating from the same pot leads to closer friendships from those at the table._

Shogi: _(Yes, this particular game took some research before I felt comfortable using it.) Sometimes called Japanese chess, this game is very similar to western chess, and although the rules are a little different, the objective is still the same--get the opponents king._

A/N: Hehe. Bet you thought this one was on hiatus by now, didn't you? blush So sorry. I know the updates are few and far between, but I'm really trying to make sure I don't mess up on this one (plus, I have other projects that take up my time as well).

I promise, this story will never be suspended without a specific author's note from me letting everyone know. It's just a little slow right now--especially since school started, and I'm up to my eyeballs in homework and reading…not to mention work. But I never give up on my writing.

On a lighter note, I know the ending here is a little abrupt, but I felt it necessary to do that, since the chapter I was working on got too long. But that means that the next chapter is well on it's way to being done, so I'm hoping to get it out sometime in the next week (note: hoping).

Please let me know if you see any grammatical mistakes or inconsistencies. I'm always open to communication. I absolutely love to hear from people about what they think.

Cheers and blessings, from your friendly neighborhood Quill


	6. Check

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, and I'm flatter than broke. 'Nuff said, right?

* * *

**CHAPTER 5**

* * *

Three moves later, Miroku sat straight up with a little murmur of surprise, and leaned forward to stare. After a moment, he threw a half-laughing, half-incredulous glance at InuYasha. "I don't believe it." He frowned, then sat back, looking slightly stunned. "Damn. I can't avoid it."

InuYasha's smirk only widened. "_Who's_ being stupid again?"

On her next turn, Kagome had Miroku's silver general--and from the way Shippou started hopping up and down and squealing, it was a severe blow for him. After a moment of taking in the alert, excited looks coming from both InuYasha and Shippou--and the startled one coming from Miroku--she realized that the move had put her back into serious game play. Miroku was now on the defensive.

Four moves later, thanks to a mere pawn and a little advice from Shippou, she had one of his knights.

Twenty minutes after that--and after a heated group discussion before her every move--she had him in check. That time even _she_ got excited.

That was when Miroku stopped giving her advice.

Fifteen minutes and one very intense chase across the board after that, Kagome moved one of her pawns next to Miroku's king, and with a huge grin--Shippou practically dancing on her head--hesitantly declared, "Checkmate?"

Miroku just sat back and started shaking his head in disbelief. He blinked, and murmured something to himself. Then, heaving a good-natured sigh, he picked up the flat piece representing his king. With a flourish, he handed it to Kagome. "Well-played, my lady." He shook his head again, mournfully. "I've been outdone by a beautiful woman. Ah, well. Life could be worse." He looked at Shippou and InuYasha, who were--respectively--grinning and smirking triumphantly. "Although, in the interest of fairness, I would like to point out that this match was technically three-on-one."

"Heh." InuYasha grabbed the piece from Kagome and slapped it off to the side. "Face it, monk. You lost."

Shippou was nodding. "Yep. For the first time since we came here, Miroku, you lost at shogi." He tapped a finger on his chin. "I guess I'm going to have to start a losing tally for _you_ now, too."

Lips twitching at Miroku's crestfallen look, Kagome pushed onto her feet, stretching slowly before glancing around the table. "Thank you for teaching me how to play," she said, bowing to all three. "That was fun."

Miroku waved a hand dismissively, eyes laughing at her formality. "It was our pleasure." He paused, darting a sly look at InuYasha, who was trying his best--and failing quite miserably--not to seem like he was staring at Kagome. "Although…to save my pride after being beaten by such an amateur, perhaps a consolation prize is in order?"

Kagome looked surprised. InuYasha looked suspicious. Miroku nodded, his smile wicked. "A kiss, perhaps?"

"Keh!" InuYasha was on his feet before Kagome could react, stepping in front of her with a glare. "_Perhaps_ you should clean up this mess, monk." The faintest of warning growls could be heard hovering beneath his words.

Unconcerned, Miroku just gave a shrug and an 'oh well' glance at Kagome before he started gathering up the pieces from the board and the table.

"Kagome!" Shippou jumped from her head into her arms. "Since you and I just did the impossible," he said, totally ignoring InuYasha's start of indignation at being left out, "I think we should have some hot chocolate to celebrate."

"Well…" She hesitated, and he didn't hesitate to turn the full force of his best pleading eyes on her. She smiled, then glanced around the room. "Hot chocolate sounds good." Her gaze settled on InuYasha. "That is, if it's All right with everyone. It _is_ getting kind of late."

For just a moment, he seemed surprised by her questioning glance. Then he turned away, crossing his arms with an annoyed frown. "Tch. Don't ask me. I don't care what you do."

With a slight roll of her eyes, she looked at Miroku, who waved his hand again. "I think hot chocolate is a wonderful idea. But please, go on without me. I want to make sure everything here is put away--and don't even think about offering to help." He cut her off before the words could leave her mouth. "Right now, you're the winner, not the help. Go enjoy a reward."

With a smile and a nod, Kagome turned with Shippou in her arms, heading for the kitchen. "I'll be more than happy to make you some if you change your mind." The two disappeared down the hall, leaving InuYasha and Miroku alone with the shogi pieces strewn about the table.

InuYasha's frown didn't subside as he stared at the doors they'd passed through. "That kid talks too much."

Miroku gave a frown of his own and picked up one of the flat wedges of wood. "He feels comfortable around Kagome. We all do. There are bound to be slips every once in a while…" one black eyebrow lifted slightly as dark eyes flitted briefly over his friend,"…even from you."

He scowled, but decided to ignore the pointed reminder. "He knows the difference between what's ok and what's not."

"And he knows the risks," Miroku agreed, rolling the piece--a king--between his fingers. "Maybe even better than you or I do. Remember, you're not the only one with reasons to be here."

The silver head turned, the golden eyes hidden from view. "Don't worry. That's one of those things I don't ever forget."

The king was slammed down with a dull bang, scattering shogi pieces across the floor and drawing InuYasha's gaze. Miroku sat as unmoving as he had before, his wounded right hand now splayed as flat as possible on the table, staring intensely at the circular scar and the perpetually bent fingers. "Neither do I," he said quietly.

InuYasha stared, first at him, then at the remnants of their game. A few minutes of understanding silence ensued as both men were lost in thought. Finally, InuYasha shook himself and crouched to pick up a few of the pieces at his feet. Miroku gave him a surprised look. "You're not going to join them for hot chocolate? You _are_ one of the winning party, you know."

Standing again, a clawed hand tossed the pieces onto the table. "I'm not thirsty," came the terse reply.

"Really?" Miroku brightened and stood, brushing the wrinkles from his loose dress-shirt. "Well then, if _you're_ not in the mood to have a drink with a pretty lady, _I_ might as well--"

The wrinkles he'd just smoothed out returned as the dark material was bunched in the hands of his irritated employer, and he was jerked halfway across the table to stare into a pair of dangerous golden eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you to leave her alone?"

Miroku's eyebrows shot up. "It's not like I was planning on bothering her--" Clawed fingers tightened, and the captive man's hands immediately rose in surrender. "Well…. You know, on second thought, I'm not really thirsty either. As Kagome said, it _is_ getting late--I think I'll just go to bed."

With a snort, InuYasha released him and turned away, heading for the doors. Miroku stared at his retreating back as he readjusted his shirt. "It's interesting…how you're so protective of someone that you routinely try to ignore out of existence."

That got him to pause, just inside the doors, a hand gripping at the frame. "I fucking well wish I _could_ ignore her." His rough-edged mutter was quiet, but still loud enough for his friend to hear, and then he was gone, vanished down the hallway.

Miroku stared after him, then around the room. "Well, then…" With a sigh, he knelt and began gathering up the pieces. "So…what do you think?"

A dry old chuckle came from beyond the open doors closest to his table, and the heavy shuffle of slippers preceded the entrance of the Sachi's official housekeeper. Kaede was dressed warmly, in a thick skirt with her heavy woolen wrap around her shoulders, a small book in her hands. She stopped just inside the dining room, and watched as Miroku continued to collect and organize the game.

"I think that you all seemed especially spirited tonight. It was the loudest game of shogi I've ever heard you play. The Amigawas commented on it when they came in earlier. I assured them you wouldn't disturb their sleep."

Miroku seemed surprised by her answer, and his brow furrowed as he reflected for a moment. He smiled faintly. "Yes. I suppose we did get rather energetic." He fished a rook out from under the table. "Well, it probably was one of the most challenging, entertaining games I've ever had the pleasure of playing. I've never seen Shippou so involved before," he tossed the rook onto the table, his smile widening almost imperceptibly, "and Kagome and InuYasha worked…very well together. She seems to have a calming effect on him. It was the first time I've ever seen him play so cautiously."

"Indeed. Kagome seems to be having a positive affect on everyone here. It's been interesting to watch." Kaede returned his smile. "I think, perhaps, her arrival heralds yet another dramatic change for the Sachi."

"Change is already here." He looked down at his hand, his smile fading. "But is it a good thing?"

Kaede considered him for a moment. "Are you worried about our unexpected guest…or about InuYasha?"

"Shouldn't I be worried about both?" He started stacking the pieces in their box. "InuYasha is…." He hesitated, unsure of how much to say.

"InuYasha is being his usual stubborn self, and fighting his attraction to her with every fiber of his being." She smiled again when Miroku shot her a surprised look. "I am old, Miroku, not blind. The air around those two is quite…." For a moment, her gaze turned far away. "Do _you_ see that the interest is mutual? Kagome reacted to him from the start."

"She is more accepting about it than he is." Miroku agreed readily, then shook his head. "I don't know, Kaede. I simply don't know. If she looked like anyone else…."

Her eyes deadpanned, and her brows rose knowingly. "If she looked like anyone else, you would be sabotaging his efforts to avoid her at every turn? You would be pushing him instead of simply teasing him?"

Normally, Miroku would have laughed, but in this case, all he could manage was a reluctant nod and a tensing around his eyes and mouth. "It would be good for him. Shutting himself off, avoiding everyone, brooding constantly--it isn't healthy. We both know this, and still that's all he's done since the moment we came here." His fist thumped on the table almost absently. "A living death is not the same as peace."

"And yet, in the three weeks since he brought her in here, she has already started to draw him out." Kaede's dark gaze drifted to the doorway that led to the kitchen. "InuYasha knows this. That is the source of his hostility."

"I have to wonder, though, is _she_ any better? Is it her…or is it her face? I have to admit, Kaede, I like her, but I'm worried." He sighed. "Do you sense it? There's something about her, something so faint that I can't pinpoint it."

"I do." Kaede agreed. "I do not know what it is, either…but it does not feel evil or malicious." She frowned, thinking. "Still, I do not feel that her arrival here is a bad thing, despite her appearance. Have you considered…contacting _him_?"

Miroku shook his head firmly. "No. InuYasha won't even hear it, and I won't go behind his back." He considered seriously for a minute, then gave a frown of his own. "At least, not without a damn good reason."

She quieted for a moment before speaking again, her tone serene. "It seems, then, that time is the only thing that will provide us with answers, Miroku. We will keep an eye on things, and step in only if we're needed."

With mutual nods of agreement and nothing more to be said, Miroku finished putting away the wooden wedges and got to his feet, leaving the rest of the box and the board on the table. "Well, since I have been effectively banished from the kitchen until Kagome departs, shall I accompany you out to your cabin, Lady Kaede?"

She gave him a dry look. "If you think the walk through the cold will not be too life-endangering for you, monk."

He only smiled chivalrously. "Dear woman, you wound me. Anything for a lady in need."

She pulled her wrap tighter in preparation for the frigid night temperatures while Miroku went off to find his jacket. Her old eyes lingered on the doorway, the wrinkles at their corners deepening as she contemplated the empty hallway beyond. "It has been quite a while since I've seen such a spark in the air." She glanced around the empty room, eyes twinkling. "Such an interesting legend the Sachi has…."

__

And such a curious presence here. It does make one wonder….

* * *

He'd almost made it. He'd almost gotten by without any contact at all.

Almost.

"Your grasp on the game is amazing, Shippou." Kagome's voice came drifting out into the hallway just as InuYasha was walking by, and he stopped in his tracks as the sound resonated in his ears, sending an imperceptible shiver through the soft appendages. He scowled at the reaction and flattened them.

He'd really been hoping to avoid her altogether for the rest of the night.

"Here. Be careful, it's hot." He heard the dull clunk of a hardened clay vessel being set on the surface of the countertop. "We never would have won without you, you know." She was smiling--he could hear it in the gentle warmth of her tone.

"I know." Despite the smug declaration, Shippou sounded pleased. "I don't ever play, but I always watch them play, so I know how both InuYasha and Miroku think. If InuYasha would just listen to me every once in a while, he wouldn't lose all the time."

_I know how to play shogi, damn it!_ His scowl deepened. He should just go to his room and go to sleep. It's what he'd been intending to do. He could still just walk right by. It wouldn't even matter if they noticed him--it wasn't like he was obligated to respond if they said anything….

"How do you know so much about rules and strategy, Shippou? Did Miroku teach you, or did you just learn on your own?"

A heavy silence followed her good-natured question, and InuYasha's attention instinctively turned back to the occupants of the kitchen. Kagome spoke again, obviously concerned. "Shippou? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

InuYasha rolled his eyes at the response, and made a mental note to talk to him later. If the kid was going to lie, he really should learn to do it better.

"My…my father was the one who taught me how to play."

Immediately, InuYasha's eyes closed as his palm hit his forehead. _Shit. His parents._ He sighed, then glanced around the darkened hallway helplessly, torn between the need to make his presence known to the two in the kitchen, and the desire to get as far away from _her_ as possible.

"Your…father?" Kagome realized right away that she'd stepped into yet another area that she shouldn't have. Her voice was suddenly quiet, and filled with uncertainty. "Shippou…."

"Shogi was his favorite game. He used to say that you could read everything important there was to know about a person from the way they played a game of shogi." Surprisingly, his young voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact…if a little thick. Still hidden out of sight, golden eyes tightened in a wince--half in sympathy, half in annoyance. At least the kid wasn't crying. "I haven't actually played since he and my mother died."

"Shippou…." Her voice was soft again, delicate as a velvet glove. "You miss them, don't you?"

"Yeah." Suddenly, he perked up again. "But it's all right. I like it here. The Sachi's a fun place to live." His voice lowered conspiratorially. "Weird things happen here all the time."

Her voice lowered accordingly. "Like beating Miroku at shogi?"

InuYasha's eyebrows shot up when he heard Shippou give an oddly familiar-sounding snort, and his voice rose to its previous self-importance. "Nah. That was pure skill. My father used to say that any game can be won given the right strategy and proper attention to detail."

Kagome laughed. "Your father sounds like he was smart."

"Oh, he _was_. Very." Pride and enthusiasm shone like a beacon through his words, brightening his tone. "My father was an absolutely _brilliant_ fox. I mean he was an--"

_Damn._

Jaw clenching tight, InuYasha stepped around the doorframe and into the kitchen. He stopped just inside, his eyes falling on a singularly adorable scene. Shippou, sitting cross-legged on the counter in the middle of the room, cup in hand, gazed earnestly at Kagome as she leaned against the countertop next to him, chin resting on her folded arms, mug sitting off to the side. Despite himself, his gaze lingered on her form, distracted by the way her oversized shirt clung to certain parts while softening others, serving only to accent her curves instead of hiding them.

"--actual, literal genius. He was _two_ different kinds of doctors, and he was so smart--"

She knew immediately. Her eyes darted a covert, sidelong glance to where he stood in the doorway, then locked onto him, widening slightly.

_How does she **always** know?_

He couldn't figure it out--it was like she had some internal radar, set only to him, that let her know whenever she was anywhere near him. Maybe _that_ was how she kept showing up wherever he went.

"--that he won all _kinds_ of awards--so many, they covered a whole wall in his old office. He even worked for the government. He…helped with…" Shippou suddenly realized that he didn't have her complete attention anymore, and trailed to a halt, following her eyes to the doorway. Pale green eyes widened when he saw InuYasha, and he gave a tiny squeak.

The high-pitched noise finally allowed him to break away from the magnetic hold she had on him, and he sent a hard glance at the younger youkai. Shippou winced, but thankfully Kagome didn't notice. She straightened from her comfortable slouch over the counter and offered a hesitant smile. "InuYasha. Did you want some hot chocolate? There's plenty." She nodded to the stove, where a small pot sat half-filled with heated milk.

He hesitated, frowning at Shippou. "I just came to get my boots."

She gave him another smile, this one much more cheerful. "Well, while you're here, you might as well have something warm to drink, right?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned to the stove, already reaching for a cup.

_Oh, hell no. Tell her no!_ He opened his mouth to tell her to forget it, but Shippou--_damn_ that kid--was already talking.

"Yeah, InuYasha. You may as well stay--after all, you _did_ help us beat Miroku…a little. Besides, Kagome makes really good hot chocolate, and it's cold outside. Hot drinks always taste better in the cold."

"A little?!" He glared at Shippou, protest forgotten. "What the hell do you mean, _a little_? I'm the one who got her his silver general!"

Shippou sniffed. "Maybe, but without me she never would have gotten the bishop that opened up the way for her to get to his king. My contribution was obviously more important than yours."

"What?! She never would have gotten anywhere near his bishop without my help." Somehow, he was across the room and leaning against the end of the counter before the words had finished slipping from his mouth.

Wait a minute…_What the hell happened to getting my shoes and getting the hell out of here?_

"Now, now." He felt the heat of smooth glass press into his palm, and blinked down at the mug of hot chocolate that now rested between his hands. And her scent…her light, interesting, natural scent was right there, right under his nose. He looked up to find her returned to her lean against the counter, chin propped up on her palm this time so that she could look at them both. "It sounds like beating Miroku is a big enough accomplishment for both of you to have gotten together, don't you think?"

While he stared dumbly at the smile flirting with her mouth, Shippou gave it some thought. "I guess so. But don't forget yourself, Kagome. You played really well for your first time."

He looked down at the steaming liquid in his mug. _Damn it. Smells good, too._

Unexpectedly, some deep, secluded part of his brain stirred, reacting almost tauntingly to the thought. _Which one--the drink…or the girl?_ The muscles in his jaw tightened, the back of his teeth grinding together as he fought both the flush and the charged, sultry heat that responded to the errant whisper in his mind.

_The girl. Most definitely the girl._

He snorted. It had been more years than he could remember since the more instinct-driven part of his brain had had any significant influence over him. He didn't know why it was choosing now to bug him, but he had no problem ignoring it. "She could use a few pointers, though. Her first move wasn't so great." For lack of anything better to do, he lifted his cup and took a gulp--then jerked away, coughing and cursing softly when the chocolate flavor seared into his tongue and down his throat.

Shippou sent him a solemn, slightly condescending look from the corner of his eyes. "You should be more careful, InuYasha." A smirk was hidden deep in the tone of his voice. "The hot chocolate is _hot_."

"I know that!" He scowled.

"Well, it was my first time, I think. I'll just have to practice more, won't I?" Kagome was looking down at her cup, slightly amused by his carelessness, slightly put out by his criticism. "If I play more, I'm bound to get better, right?"

"That's a great idea," Shippou cocked his head and took another sip. "InuYasha, you can be her partner, and I'll be her coach. That way, we can teach her faster." He nodded, looking extremely pleased with himself and his solution.

His eyes widened in alarm. "Who the hell said you could volunteer me?"

Shippou looked indignant. "You have to help. You were part of the victory. Besides, your strategy could use a little work."

"Yeah, a _little_ part." He sneered sarcastically, paused, then frowned again. "And what the hell do you mean '_a little work' _?"

"You haven't beaten Miroku in five years," Shippou pointed out. "It wasn't until all of us played together that we beat him. Of _course_ you could use the practice."

InuYasha's eyes narrowed dangerously. "That's sounds funny coming from a kid who won't even touch any of the game's pieces."

He regretted the words almost before they left his mouth. If he'd given it even a fraction of thought beforehand, he never would have said them.

Shippou's face fell, and his bangs falling to hide his eyes as he stared down into his cup. _Shit._ InuYasha frowned, feeling guilty, angry with himself for his thoughtlessness. The last thing he'd wanted to do was remind the kid. He knew how Shippou felt.

Kagome wasn't happy about his comment, either. She surprised him by shooting him a reproving glare before turning her attention back to the smaller youkai. "It's ok, Shippou. He doesn't have to help. I'm sure we'll do just fine on our own."

Shippou looked up, opening his mouth to protest. Then he stopped. Darting another side look at InuYasha, he gave a casual nod. "I guess you're right, Kagome. I can help you better than InuYasha can." He shrugged. "Besides, Miroku would probably make a much better partner anyway."

Clawed fingers tightened around his mug.

"I'm sure we can get _him_ to help."

Kagome smiled, happy to see Shippou emerged from his brief melancholy. "Miroku would make an excellent teacher."

"I never said I wouldn't help," he snapped, irritated beyond what the conversation warranted.

Shippou beamed triumphantly, while Kagome just looked doubtful. "Really? You…don't mind?"

"Keh." He glared at Shippou, well aware that he'd just been goaded into doing something he didn't want to do, yet completely unwilling to back out of it. "What I _mind _is not being asked."

Kagome shared a quick grin with Shippou before she bowed her head respectfully. "I would be most grateful for any help you could give me." She peeked up at him. "Please?"

InuYasha stared at them both, his grip threatening to crack the glass of his mug. _Why the hell does it feel like I lost all control the second I stepped into this room?_ Correction. He'd felt out of control since the moment he'd plucked the woman across from him up out of a river in the middle of nowhere. He sighed. "Yeah, whatever."

_Fuck._

The kitsune and the woman shared another smile, then started discussing the best time to practice, while the hanyou tuned them out with a grimace and glanced at the doors leading outside. He was seriously debating walking out _now_, before things got even worse. He took another sip of his chocolate, this time with more caution.

"You seem awfully young to know so much, though, Shippou. You can't have been playing for _that_ long. You said your father taught you how to play, right?" Kagome sounded thoughtful. "And you came here with Kaede…. How long did you say you've lived at the Sachi?"

He almost choked again.

Shippou shrugged and produced a long, thin piece of string from somewhere on his body, and proceeded to twist it in intricate patterns around his fingers. "Five years. Same as everyone else."

"Then…you must be older than I thought you were."

Shippou paused to give her a very solemn, very adult look. "I'm a youkai, Kagome. I'm older than I look." The look dropped as abruptly as it had appeared, and he resumed his play with the string. "Probably by only by a few years, though. I really am still a kid."

"Oh." She took a moment to absorb that statement. InuYasha was positive she was going to ask how old the kitsune really was, so her next question was a complete surprise. "So that means…you all came here at the same time?"

Not to mention an aggravation.

Shippou didn't even blink. "Yep. We came here together, we opened the Sachi together, and we've all been running it ever since."

He set his mug down with a little too much force, and it gave a sharp thwack, drawing both of their attention. He scowled. Shippou's eyes widened…then rolled in exasperation. He gave him his '_I'm not stupid, you know_'look, and InuYasha's eyes narrowed in a silent challenge of '_Oh, yeah_?' Shippou stuck out his tongue, and InuYasha seriously considered giving him another thump just for the disrespect.

Kagome didn't notice. She was too busy staring hard at her mug. "Together? But…I thought you didn't know each other until _after_ you came to the Sachi."

It was InuYasha's turn to roll his eyes. Shippou's look turned sheepish, and he opened his mouth to answer, but InuYasha cut him off, still frowning. "No, _Shippou_ didn't know _us_--Miroku asked Kaede to come with us when we came out here. We needed someone to clean, and Kaede…. She needed something to do." His mouth gave a disgruntled little quirk. "The _runt_ was just part of the deal."

"Oh." Unexpectedly, she smiled. "I think you got a good deal, then."

Her smile distracted him, and he blinked over her phrasing. "Good deal?" He repeated. The words felt odd coming out of his mouth. They weren't exactly ones he'd used before--at least, not in reference to his current situation.

Shippou's eyebrows rose and he echoed the hanyou. "Good deal?"

Her smile became a full-fledged grin. "Of course. Without Shippou, it would get boring fast around here. Because he's here, things are fun and exciting--and he's very popular with the guests."

InuYasha just stared at her, while Shippou perked up, eyes wide. "Really?"

She nodded. "Really. How many other people normally get to see kitsune magic tricks every day?"

It took a moment of thought, but eventually, Shippou's wide-eyed expression transformed into a slow, blooming smile. "Not very many, huh?" The kid didn't even bother to gloat--he just beamed happily and sat a little straighter. "And the customers _do_ really like me, don't they?" He resumed sipping on his hot chocolate, contemplating his thoughts quietly.

Golden eyes blinked in astonishment, then turned to regard the woman off to his right. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Shippou smile like that. She'd only been here for a little under three weeks--and one of those she'd been unconscious. Just a few simple words from her, and suddenly all was well with the world? When did she and Shippou get so close?

She noticed his scrutiny, and her cheeks flushed a bit as she looked down at her mug, half-filled with hot chocolate that was now only lukewarm. He wished she would just finish it. She'd done nothing but fiddle with it distractedly ever since he'd entered the kitchen. It was almost as if she couldn't drink it while he was there. For some reason, the thought bothered him.

It wasn't like he didn't know he made her nervous. The anxiety in her scent--the subtle spike of adrenaline that sharpened it whenever he got anywhere near her--was impossible for him to miss. And _that_ bothered him too.

Of course, not all of that anxiety was the _bad_ kind….

His jaw clenched. "Your drink's cold."

She looked up at him, startled, then down again. "Oh, it's…." The glass rolled between her palms, and she sighed. "Yes, it is." Her eyes returned to his, and she tilted her head with a faint smile. "It's ok. I'm not really thirsty anyway. It was more about holding something hot--in case you haven't noticed, it's cold around here." The smile turned teasing. "But I guess you're not really bothered by the cold, are you?"

He eyed the smile warily before lifting his mug to his mouth, and dropping his gaze, focusing on the smooth white of the counter instead of her. "Youkai bodies are tougher than human ones. For you, the cold is a problem…for me, it's just there." He hesitated, then shrugged. "But even I feel the cold when it's bad--especially in Hokkaido. We have the harshest winters in Japan."

Gray eyes widened slightly. "Sounds serious. Is there anything special we have to do to get ready?"

Moderately surprised at her concern, he just shook his head. "We're fine. The Sachi is pretty well-insulated for something that was built so long ago. We have a heating system and a generator, we keep the fires burning, and everyone dresses warm." He paused, eyeing the oversized button-down shirt, jeans, and thin cotton socks that she'd been wearing all night. No real layers to speak of…. Come to think of it, that had been her basic outfit for the past few weeks. "You have more clothes than that, right?"

"Oh…umm…well….some." She blushed. "When we went into Sounkyo, Kaede helped me pick out a few things, but there was a lot she wanted me to get, and…. Well, it wasn't my money, so…."

"You didn't get everything she told you to, did you?" Golden eyes passed over her again, lingering, just briefly, on the material-softened, rounded swell of her chest before abruptly jerking back up to her face. Black eyebrows twisted in an annoyed quirk. "Shit. You're going to need warmer clothes. You at least had enough sense to get a jacket, right?"

"Yes." Her blush hadn't subsided--had, in fact, only deepened with his obvious perusal of her body. "And boots for outside in the snow. I just…" Her shoulders straightened a little, slightly defensive. "I thought I could do without some of the more--"

"Never mind," he interrupted, with the dual purpose of sparing them both an awkward explanation and apology, and forcing his own attention away from her. "We'll go back into Sounkyo in a few days." He frowned. "Just make sure you get everything Kaede tells you to get, ok? Don't worry about money. Keeping everyone warm in the cold is more important than a little cash."

She nodded, color still warmly flushed. For a few moments, the kitchen was quiet.

He would have enjoyed it, too--if it weren't for the way she kept glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. She was studying him obliquely, her expression intent, questioning…slightly troubled.

Now _she_ was making _him_ nervous, and he didn't like that at all. A growl welled and hovered somewhere within his chest, but he managed to keep it in check--only barely. He fidgeted, a fine tension spreading through the muscles of his body, putting him on edge. "You got a problem?"

His irritated demand startled her, and he caught a quick reactionary flash in her gaze. "I…" She hesitated, then looked away. "No. Sorry." Her voice was flat, her brows tensed--just short of a frown.

The flicker of vexation sparked a reluctant interest. _That temper of hers again._ Except for that damn splinter incident, her attitude around him always seemed to carry an undercurrent of uncertainty, and a rather irksome shield of politeness. That changed when she was angry. She acted different, looked different--less cautious and more natural, more intriguing. It was like she forgot that they were strangers.

Not that he _wanted_ her to be more familiar with him. But he didn't like the thought of her being afraid of him, either. It was damned annoying when they lived in the same fucking house.

Abruptly, she sighed, then moved away from the counter, heading over to the sink. He kept his eyes fixed on his mug, but his ears twisted to follow her movement across the kitchen.

"Ah!"

At her tiny gasp, he looked up, tensing, half-expecting to see that she'd somehow hurt herself again. But she was just standing in front of the sink, transfixed, the hand holding her mug suspended in the air over the drain.

He considered her suspiciously. _What now?_ She didn't _look_ hurt. Her back was to him, so he couldn't see her face, but it looked to him like she was staring out the window.

"Outside--it's…" She whirled, and was suddenly dashing forward, socks slipping on the polished wood of the floor, mug still in hand. "It's snowing!" She rounded the counter--and him--her face alive with pleasure and excitement; almost before he knew what she was doing, she'd reached the sliding doors leading outside and thrown them wide open. He stared in surprise as the freezing air rushed in on a breeze, overwhelming whatever warmth that had been lingering in the kitchen.

"Oh…." She breathed out the word, and a faint cloud passed from between her lips, hanging suspended for a moment before dispersing. "Look."

"Snow?" Shippou perked up as he darted after her, crossing the room in a series of quick jumps before landing on her shoulder. The two of them stilled, remaining unmoving in the doorway as they looked with awe out into the darkness beyond.

Shippou's head tilted as he leaned forward to peer more carefully around Kagome's neck and shoulder. "Ooooh. You found the first snow of the season, Kagome."

InuYasha gave a slight roll of his eyes at the comment. With a quiet, exasperated sigh, he wrapped his hands around the remaining warmth of his mug and followed reluctantly--even though his nose had confirmed her words the moment she'd opened the doors. He stopped at the now open section of wall, leaning his shoulder against the edge opposite Kagome and Shippou as he turned his gaze in the direction that had them so enraptured.

Sure enough, just beyond the slope of the overhanging porch, bits of white were drifting through the air in silent, gradual descent. It hadn't been snowing for very long, and the tiny flakes had only just started to dust the ground. The pale light, spilling from the kitchen behind them, spread out into the shadows, highlighting the way the coat of white served to soften the rocky grass and trees of the surrounding landscape.

By morning everything would be covered in a fine, powdery white.

He stared unblinkingly, a slight frown marring his brows. _The first snow of the season._ Always the same. Always so sudden. One day, you were surrounded by the endless evergreen of the forests and mountains--and the next it was all gone, hidden away beneath a blanket of pale, frozen ice. He'd watched it every year for five years, and he still wasn't quite sure how to feel about it. It reminded him a little too much of things he wanted to forget.

Still, it was a good thing. After all, snow was big business in Sounkyo. It brought in the sports enthusiasts to ski, and the tourists for the ice festival. First snow was a highly anticipated and welcomed event in town. He'd seen it far too many times to count, and heard far more arguments over it than he'd ever wanted to be a part of.

__

Speaking of arguments….

The smallest corner of his mouth turned up in a grudging smile at the thought that occurred to him. "Heh. I guess baba was right after all."

He said it mostly to himself, but Kagome caught the murmured words. Her head tilted as her attention went to him, her glance questioning. For a breath of time, their eyes connected and held across the open space of the doorway.

His shoulder lifted in a careless shrug. "She and the monk had a bet going on whether it would snow before the end of the week or not." He smirked, reluctant to drop her gaze. "Miroku just lost." Her response was a gentle smile of amusement, and for another heartbeat, peace reigned across the porch.

Shippou squealed, anticipation gleaming on his face. "Hey! If it snows enough, I can take you out sledding tomorrow, Kagome."

InuYasha cast a critical gaze over the clouds in the sky. "No way. There won't be enough snow tonight." His eyes drifted back across the small distance. "Besides, she doesn't have the clothes to play out in the snow, remember? We sure as hell don't want her getting sick after she just recovered."

"Oh." The little kit's excitement subsided, before abruptly brightening. "That's ok. By the time we get the heavy snow, you'll be all set. InuYasha said we'd go back into town soon--and next time he won't let you come back without everything you need." He turned back to the frozen scenery just beyond the door, his chest swelling with importance. "I know all the fun places to play in the snow. Just wait until we get a good storm--then I'll show you."

InuYasha glanced at the falling snow with a quiet snort. "Yeah, _if_ you can get away from Kaede long enough to play."

Apparently, Shippou hadn't included his impending punishment in his plans, and his expression fell again with dismay. Kagome sent Inuyasha a quelling frown that he pretended to ignore, then smiled reassuringly at the child on her shoulder. "It's ok, Shippou. I'm sure Kaede won't mind if you're just showing me your favorite spots."

Shippou nodded, then shivered. "Brr. It's starting to get cold in here." He glanced over his shoulder to where his empty cup sat abandoned on the counter, then down at Kagome. "Hey, Kagome. Can I have some more hot chocolate?"

She blinked up at him. "Don't you think it's getting late? You should be getting to bed."

His eyes went large and begging. "Please? Just a little more, then I'll go to bed. I promise."

"Well…" Gray eyes focused across the porch once more, inquiringly. He blinked back, realizing he was staring--_again_. Gritting his teeth, he forced his gaze back out the door, refusing to acknowledge her. His ears gave a brief, involuntary flick at the soft sound of her sigh. "Only a little more." She shifted to move away from the door, but it was Shippou's lighter weight that thumped to the floor as he jumped off her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Kagome. I can get it myself."

He was still staring outside, so he couldn't see her, but her answering smile was plain in her voice. "All right. Be careful."

InuYasha scowled, wondering if it was a good idea to let the smaller youkai handle _anything_ near the stove. He glanced over his shoulder, watching Shippou hop up onto the countertop and grab at the still warm pot of milk, reassuring himself that the kid wouldn't burn down the kitchen, too.

The muted shuffle of cloth on wood directly behind him startled him. His head whipped back around just in time to move away from the door, out of the way of her hand as she grasped hold of it and slid both shut, cutting off the freezing outdoor current that had been filtering inside. Then, running her hands along her sleeves with a little shiver of her own, she turned to face him.

He stared back, wary of the fact that she was now standing only a few feet away, regarding him with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation. His nostrils flared gently as her scent invaded his personal space, and he blinked, disconcerted by the instant churning tension in his gut.

She offered him another smile. "Would you like some?"

He couldn't for the life of him figure out what she was talking about, and his scowl only deepened with his confusion. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Hot chocolate," she clarified, pointing at the empty mug in his hands. She reached out. "Since Shippou's getting more, I thought you--"

She was going to touch him. He could swear his heart actually stopped beating. Panicked, he jerked his hand away from her fingers, at the same time stepping back to put some room between them. "No!" He practically growled it at her, completely unnerved by his reaction. "And don't stand so fucking close!"

Kagome snatched her hand back, and for a moment she froze, staring at him in surprise. Her cheeks flared a brilliant red--caused by either indignation or embarrassment, he couldn't tell which--and she threw up her hands. "_Sorry_! You don't have to yell, you know! It's not like I was going to _make_ you take any!"

"Hah!" Irritated at his overreaction, he took his embarrassment out on her. "As if you _could_! And I didn't _want_ any in the first place!"

Kagome's eyes darkened as her mouth shut with an audible snap of her teeth. The look she gave him warned him she was just about out of patience. "If you didn't want any, all you had to do was say so!" Her hands settled on her hips, and her foot gave a frustrated thump. "Do you always _have_ to be so rude about _everything_? Would it kill you to be just a little considerate sometimes?"

"It's just the way I am!" She was glaring at him. She was angry_. _And from the aggravation lighting her expression, she was ready to fight. And just like that, something deep inside of him loosened, and he relaxed. "Fucking get used to it."

She was going to lose it. InuYasha watched the struggle with her temper play in fascinating detail across her features. He fought down a wayward smirk. Finally, _here_ was safe territory… _This_ he was familiar with. _This_ he could deal with. His back straightened, and another part of him--a different part, one he hadn't felt for a while--flared to life, a subtle hint of adrenaline pushing a heady rush through his veins.

"You…you're a real jerk, you know that? I was just trying to be nice."

Her voice had definitely risen in volume, and a small part of him took note with a twinge of satisfaction even as he took exception to the remark. "Jerk?! It's not my fault you have to have everything spelled out for you! And what you were _being_ was a pain."

"A pain!" Damn, she really was pissed now--stormy eyes widened and swirling with emotion, face alive, chest heaving with the effort to keep control. "You're one to talk! With the way you treat people, it's a wonder you don't chase away your guests the second you meet them!"

"Keh!" He crossed his arms, scowl firmly fixed in place. "Like I _care_ about the guests. If I had my way, I'd never even have to _see_ them!"

He swore he could hear her teeth grind. "If you don't care about the _guests_, then why run an _inn_?!"

"Tch." The muscles around his mouth tightened and he gave an involuntary half-sneer. "It's not as if I had--" He froze. His brain caught up to his mouth, and the words stuck in his throat as he realized what he was about to say.

_Idiot!_ Suppressing a wince, he snapped his mouth shut and glanced away, his jaw clenching tight to cut off any other stupidity that might try to come out without his permission. If he could have kicked his own ass without looking ridiculously stupid, he would have. Had he forgotten his reason for being in here in the first place?

He stilled, his eyes flying back to hers in utter bemusement.

He had. He couldn't believe it. He'd _forgotten_. For just a moment, for just a breath…he'd completely forgotten.

_Shit._

Kagome's frown had taken on a dubious cast as she glared at him, her expression a curious mixture of frustration and suspicion, her anger beginning to waver at his hesitation. "InuYasha?"

He dropped his gaze, forced it away from her and glowered at the floor. He'd been in here to make sure the _kid_ was good…and here _he_ was the one who almost said something he shouldn't have. Just what the fuck was going on? He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so…off balance….

_Wait_. Yes he could. And it hadn't been any more pleasant _then_ than it was now. His fingers tightened around his mug, and he came this close to shattering the sturdy glass.

"Are you…All right?"

At the sound of her voice--closer now--he looked up. She'd taken a few steps forward, and stood only about an arm's length away from him. He transferred the glare to her, hoping that she wouldn't come any closer. It was bad enough that he had to deal with her _scent_ being so near. Breathing out, he forced himself to focus, allowing some of the adrenaline--and the tension it generated--to drain away before he responded. "It was already one."

She blinked, slim brows rising in confusion. "What?"

"The Sachi." He turned, heading for the appliance half of the kitchen. "It was already an inn when we got here. We took over right in the middle of a festival. There were a lot of guests that we couldn't cancel, so…." He shrugged, setting the cold glass of his mug on the smooth countertop cutting the kitchen in half. "We just stepped in and kept going. We didn't have a choice."

"Oh." Almost absently, she followed him. "Didn't you ever try to change it?"

Golden eyes blinked, the twist of his brows giving him a harassed look. "Why bother? It works. People know the Sachi; they come for the location and the legend. It's been like that for a long time. It'd be stupid to try to change it now."

A thoughtful, hesitant frown had her gazing at the countertop instead of him. Her fingers rubbed at its smooth surface for a moment. "But then…doesn't that mean that you do enjoy it--at least a little? Especially something like this."

Now he was just confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems to me that an inn is something you can only do if you enjoy doing it--you know, dealing with _people_," she gave a tiny roll of her eyes, "maintaining the inn, stocking the appropriate supplies. Almost all of your time and energy goes into making sure everything is working right. We all have to work hard to make sure the Sachi runs properly, and that the guests are comfortable and happy." She paused, then lifted her eyes to meet his. "I really don't think it would work if everyone didn't enjoy it at least a little." A faint, gentle smile lifted the corners of her lips. "Even you."

She'd surprised him again--and again, all he could do was stare at her, at a momentary loss.

She didn't say anything else, just continued to stare at him with that tiny, knowing smile of hers. Eventually, he just relented, his features softening almost unconsciously as he gave a rueful shake of his head, his tone grudging. "Yeah, well…maybe."

She rewarded him--and that's what it felt like, a _reward_--with a bigger smile, then her fingers reached out across the counter. He watched them curl around rim of the cup in his hand, and felt as she tugged gently. He frowned and tugged back. "Hey."

She rolled her eyes and gave another tug. "You're finished with it. Let me clean it so I can get some sleep."

He gave a snort and pulled the mug out of her grasp and held it up out of her reach. "Who says you have to clean everything before you go to bed? I'll do it."

"But--" He gave her a narrow look, and she shut her mouth. The expression on her face, and the blush that accompanied it, told him that she, too, was remembering the last time they'd stood in the kitchen like this.

She pursed her lips and dropped her gaze to the floor. "Fine. Then I'm going to bed." She started to push away from the counter, but hesitated and looked up. Her lips parted again, and she started to say something else, but seemed to change her mind at the last second. Instead, she gave him another gentle smile and a soft "goodnight" before turning away from the counter and heading for the door.

He had no idea how it happened. He didn't see what she tripped over, didn't catch whatever it was that snagged at her sock-encased feet. But he did catch the surprised gasp as it escaped her lips, and he did catch the slight look of panic that crossed her features as they slipped out from under her and she started to fall.

And then, for some reason…he caught _her_.

It wasn't much. Just his fingers grasping around her elbow. Just her arm winding around his forearm. Just enough to steady her.

Nor did it last very long. It was just enough time for her to realize that she hadn't hit the ground, and scramble to get her feet under her again. Then she pulled away from him, embarrassment filling her face with color.

But…for a few scant moments…it had been pure electricity. The place where her hand had gripped at his bare forearm--why the hell had he pulled his sleeves up in the first place anyway?--burned, sinking in to absorb into his bloodstream. A heated charge spread underneath his skin as his heart gave a solid jolt and his blood went rushing to places it shouldn't go.

He fought himself. He had to force his fingers to release her arm, when what they really wanted to do was tighten, to give in to the odd temptation to yank her forward…to feel the full impact of her body against his. His nose gave a slight, involuntary twitch, clinging to her scent even as he dropped his arm back to his side and stepped back to put more distance between them.

And when they finally stood apart, the atmosphere, heavy with expectation, draped over them like a warm cloak, momentarily impeding both breath and sound. He saw her bite her lip, then open her mouth to offer an apology, and abruptly cut her off before she could. "Idiot."

He paused, then frowned. _What the hell? _He had meant to sound harsh, not like…whatever the hell had just come out of his mouth. Not…soft. Not gentle. _Irritated_, not _tolerant_. A glance at her wide eyes told him that she'd noticed it, too. Red-faced, he looked away and swallowed in an attempt to regain his regular brusqueness. "Maybe that'll teach you. Wear slippers next time."

He heard her hesitate, heard her sigh, then sensed her nod. "Yes. Thank you." He blinked, his ears twitching on his head. Her voice was even softer than his had been. Another hesitation. He kept his gaze determinedly glued to his mug--which had somehow made it onto the counter in front of him. Then another "goodnight", followed by the soft thud of her feet as she left the kitchen.

It wasn't until he was absolutely sure she was gone that he let his hand fist around the feel of her skin. The heat was back--the subtle, throbbing hum in his veins that was ready to flare out of control. If he relented, if he let it prod him into action, he would give in to the temptation to follow her, to coax her into more than a simple touch. The indications were there. She was interested in him, drawn to him even. It wouldn't take much.

_If_ he gave into it. _If_ he allowed it blossom.

A growl rumbled deep in his chest. _Damn it!_ It was a warning. A warning that he was about to step into territory where he didn't want to go. Kami knew he didn't ever want to go there again. Not ever.

His mouth curled into a sneer and he shook his head. The whole situation was fucking _ridiculous_. She was just a simple human. She shouldn't be able to effect such havoc on his peace of mind. He was supposed to be over that kind of pure idiocy.

He didn't even want to think about his disgraceful behavior in the kitchen tonight. If Miroku had seen _any_ of that… He shook his head again and turned on his heel, muttering a few choice swear words as he headed for his room.

It couldn't continue. She wasn't going to go away anytime soon, and he'd proven that he couldn't ignore her. If he couldn't ignore her, then _godsdammit_, he would learn how to deal with her. He could find a way to be around her without damaging his sanity. Maybe…. Maybe he could inure himself to her presence if he just exposed himself enough.

Besides, he was tired of eating all his meals cold.

And Miroku was right. She _was_ a good cook.

* * *

In the silence of the kitchen, nothing stirred for the longest time after the Sachi's owner and newest employee had exited so abruptly. The two empty mugs sat abandoned--and still dirty--at their spots on the counter. The stove remained on, still heated just enough to warm the small pot that remained on one of the ranges. And one tiny, wide-eyed kitsune sat stock-still on his fluffy tail next to the stove, his own mug still half-full.

Green eyes stared at the door, at once both disbelieving and thoughtful. "They forgot me." The young voice sounded both shocked and awed. "They actually _forgot_ about me."

The young features morphed into a childish sulk. "That dumb InuYasha--it's all his fault. He made Kagome forget about me." Then, the sulk cleared, and the pondering look returned--this time accompanied by a hint of speculation.

Outside, a faint scraping could be heard. The doors were once again thrown open, and Miroku stepped inside--shoes in one hand, the other still brushing at the snow in his hair. His expression was not pleased as he turned to pull the doors shut, mumbling to himself. "It's already later than normal in the season. It couldn't _possibly_ have waited another day?"

He sighed, then started to head out into the hallway, only to stop short in surprise when he spotted Shippou sitting all alone….next to the stove. Which just happened to be _open_. Warily, he glanced around the kitchen again, half-expecting this to be some kind of trick.

When nothing appeared out of place, he turned his attention back to the counter. Shippou hadn't even looked up from his deep reflection of the liquid in his mug. Slightly confused, Miroku approached the counter from the opposite side. "Shippou? Don't you think it's time for you to be in bed?"

Shippou made a non-committal sound. "I promised Kagome I would go to bed as soon as I was finished with my hot chocolate."

Miroku eyed the boy for a moment. "Uh-huh. And where is our lovely new housekeeper?" He spotted InuYasha's abandoned mug and picked it up, taking the opportunity to be completely unsanitary by replacing it with his shoes.

Shippou frowned in response. "She already went to bed." His head gave a little tip. "So did InuYasha."

Miroku, half-way around the counter on his way to the sink, froze. "Pardon?"

Finally, Shippou looked up. "InuYasha and Kagome already went to bed. They left me in here all by myself. I think they forgot I was here."

Violet eyes widened. "Ahhhh…" Miroku didn't seem to know what to make of that statement. "InuYasha and Kagome went to bed? At the, uh, same time?"

Shippou' brows twisted, giving him a perplexed look, then he shook his head. "Nu-uh. Kagome went first."

Miroku took this as good news and relaxed. "So InuYasha decided to stop in here after all?" Shaking himself, he started moving again.

Shippou watched him reach the stove and close off the burner before he removed the remainder of the pot of milk, and headed for the sink. "Yep. He said he came here for his boots, but…I don't think so." Pale green eyes rolled in exasperation. "He doesn't trust me."

Miroku sighed and turned on the water. "InuYasha doesn't really trust anyone, Shippou." He paused, rinsing out a mug, then spoke again, his even tones flowing with pointed reprimand. "And neither should you."

Shippou gave the older man a decidedly InuYasha-like scowl. "But Kagome _lives_ here."

"Yes, she does. For now." The response seemed to give the youkai pause, and for a moment he watched Miroku rinse out the dishes. Miroku glanced at him, around the kitchen once more, then sighed again. "Wait a moment, and I'll walk you out to the cabin, ok?"

The orange head bobbed obligingly, then stilled as his expression once again grew thoughtful. "Hey, Miroku?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can't we just _keep_ Kagome?"

Miroku froze again. Then, without a word, he reached out, shut off the water, and picked up a dishtowel to dry. Shippou waited patiently.

It was only after he'd gotten everything put away that Miroku turned to face him, his expression serious. "I think that's probably up to Kagome more than anyone else, Shippou."

"Oh." He thought hard for a minute. "But if she wants to, she can stay, right? She can stay and be part of the Sachi?"

Miroku's brow furrowed, and he gave a vague shrug. "Maybe." He grabbed the kit by his tail, and headed around counter, snagging his shoes as he went by. "Come on. It's late even for me. You must be tired--and you're working with Kaede starting tomorrow morning."

They reached the porch, and Shippou watched Miroku slip into his shoes. "But we can keep Kagome if _InuYasha_ wants her, right?"

Once again, Miroku paused. This time he chuckled. "Now _there's_ an interesting question." He straightened, considering while Shippou hopped up onto his shoulder. Then he laughed again. "Well, I suppose if InuYasha decides that he wants to_ keep _her, then maybe…."

Shippou was already nodding his head. "Yeah. I thought so."

The Sachi's manager eyed its youngest staff member suspiciously as they started down the steps. "Why, exactly, do you ask, Shippou?"

Shippou blinked back at him, the wide innocence in his eyes not quite enough to hide the sly glint beneath it. "Because I'm going to keep Kagome, of course."

Miroku's expression went from suspicious to uneasy, though it was almost impossible to tell as they were enveloped in the darkness of the path that led out to Kaede's old cabin. "You sound like you think it'll be easy."

Shippou yawned, finally betraying his tiredness; but when he answered, his voice was filled with the simple confidence of youth. "It will be."

* * *

A/N: Umm…. :waves shyly: Hello, everyone. See? I _do_ live…sort of…maybe.

Blah. I feel terrible that this took so long. I really wanted to get it done and posted a long time ago--I originally intended that the two chapters only be a few days apart--but life has been very harsh of late, and depression doesn't really help one write. (I am here to testify: _writer's block really **does** exist_! And if it actually took a physical form, I would cheerfully hunt it down, maim it, shoot it, slice it, and torture it. _Then_ I would kill it.)

Also, I actually had it written not long after I posted that last chapter, but the kitchen scene seemed all wrong to me, so I didn't feel I could post it. I ended up scrapping and re-writing the entire scene--not once, but TWICE. I think this one came out the best of the three. (_ah, and thanks to blackberry and barachan22 for their post-posting input_)

sigh _Please_ tell me if anything seems off. This is one of those things that you stare at for too long, and it could be better _or_ worse than you think it is.

And as always, already plodding away on the next chapter.

Cheers and blessings,

Quill


	7. Sounkyo

* * *

**Chapter 6**

* * *

With a little sigh, Kagome slipped the sweater over her head, smoothing the soft fabric over her chest and hips before she turned to view her reflection in the mirrors. The dressing room was small, one of only three in the quaint, street-side clothing shop, but it had three full-length mirrors that showed her more angles of her body than any female could lucidly wish for.

This was the third shop they'd visited today. For most of the morning, they'd been systematically going through the various clothing stores that were scattered among Sounkyo's hotels and other specialty shops. And thankfully, she thought she was almost done. After all, besides clothing, she also had a small list of kitchen supplies to fill for Kaede before they returned to the Sachi, and she didn't want to spend too much time trying on clothes.

She turned once more, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. This whole shopping expedition had felt somewhat odd to her from the start, and it had kept her mildly flustered since they'd gotten into town. Maybe it was because her whole situation--lack of memory, lack of clothes, lack of _life_--was so absurd. Maybe it was because Kaede wasn't with her this time.

Or maybe, it was because this time, InuYasha _was_.

The last time she'd been in Sounkyo, the older woman's presence had been a comfort, making the fact that she was shopping for clothes because she didn't _have_ any (and didn't know _why_ she didn't have any) almost fun. This time, both Kaede and Shippou had remained at the Sachi, seeing to the fresh influx of guests who had mysteriously appeared with the snow a few days before. That had left Kagome driving into town with Miroku, who was his usual charming, disconcerting self, and…InuYasha.

When he'd declared over breakfast earlier this morning they were going back to Sounkyo--and that she would be going along to "get the rest of your damn clothes"--she hadn't thought he'd meant that he would be coming with her. And yet, as soon as Miroku had parked the Sachi's lone vehicle, a rather large, four-wheel drive SUV, and locked up, he had given them both a cheerful wave and headed off to do…whatever it was he was here to do, calling over his shoulder that they would meet up for lunch.

There had been an awkward moment while they stared at each other, and then, with a snort and a shrug, InuYasha had grabbed her arm and steered her across the street to towards the nearest store. He'd been with her all morning, and he was being particularly cranky and belligerent about it. Even worse, he'd been waiting for her in every store they'd gone to, so that he could _approve_ her choices before they bought them.

She didn't know whether to throw a fit or burst out laughing. She was mostly leaning towards throwing a fit; but occasionally it was all she could do to keep from giggling aloud, because _he_ obviously didn't want to be here even _more_ than _she_ didn't want him here. So far, all he'd done in each store was find a seat--against a wall or on a chair, it didn't matter--somewhere near the dressing rooms, scowl bad-temperedly at anyone who came near him, and contribute pestering comments until she'd made her choices. Then, to her utter mortification, he insisted on looking them over to make sure they were what she needed.

The whole morning had been embarrassing, uncomfortable at points, and…actually kind of fun.

Her lips twitched.

She was on to him. It had taken her a while to notice, but she _was_ on to him. He'd made such a show of being bored out of his mind while he watched her pick out her clothes, and such a point of making sure everyone in the vicinity knew he was unhappy about being there, that she'd been ready to strangle him.

But then she'd started catching the smallest hints of a smirk, twitching at the corners of his mouth. It happened each time his attitude had sent both customers or clerks flinching away from either one of them. She'd watched him closely, and puzzled over the phenomenon for a bit before she'd finally realized: he was getting kick out of the whole process.

She wouldn't go so far as to say he was enjoying himself, but he surely wasn't as miserable as he was pretending. Once she'd noticed what he was doing, it was kind of amusing. When it wasn't annoying.

TMP! TMP! TMP! TMP!TMP!

She jumped, jerked from her thoughts by the heavy pounding on the dressing room door.

"Oi! Are you done in there yet? We ain't got all day, you know!"

Annoying…like right now.

Her hands clenched into fists and she turned to glare at the door. "Don't you have _anything_ better to do with your time than bother me in a dressing room?!"

There was a pause, then a caustic, "I might have--_if_ I could trust a certain bitch to be smart enough to get all the clothes she was _supposed_ to get in the first place!"

Indignation widened her eyes at his newest nickname for her. He'd been using the insult on and off for the past couple of days, and, while she'd gotten that it denoted a certain level of ease with her, she didn't really appreciate it. With an exasperated sound, she turned her back on the door and glared at her own reflection. "Well, _I_ might move a little faster if I didn't have a certain someone _dogging_ my every move!"

Another pause, this one somewhat shocked, followed by a flat, rather sulky, "If that was supposed to be a joke, it wasn't fucking funny."

An involuntary grin turned the corners of her lips. Fine, so maybe she _was_ moving a little slower than normal this time around--but really, did he _have_ to hover over the dressing room as if he was a jailer making sure she didn't escape from custody? It was irritating. She rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm almost done. Give me a few minutes, okay?"

She heard a faint snort, and a mumbled "keh", before she sensed his absence from the small foyer that fronted the three stalls in the dressing area.

She returned her attention to the mirrors. Dissatisfied with her appearance, she tugged the sweater off her body and dropped it in the small heap of rejects to her left. Picking up the next one, she held the soft material in her hands, rubbing it absently between her fingers.

It had been three days. Three days since the night they'd stood on the porch and watched the season's first snow. Only three days to have affected such a change between them. And change it was--subtle, but very real. It had started the next morning, when he'd shown up for breakfast, and continued throughout the day with the simple evidence of his presence. She actually _saw_ him now as he went about his errands during the day: she passed him in the halls, provided refreshment in his never-ending quest to fix whatever was wrong in the baths, and even managed a few brief, mundane chats while she did the dishes. He didn't stiffen and stalk away. He didn't glare at her as if she was trying to infect him with some rare disease. He wasn't exactly _friendly_, but he no longer made her feel like she was an unwelcome intruder--and for that, she was grateful. She was finally starting to feel that she might actually have a place here.

And for _that_, she was _immensely_ grateful.

Sighing, she pulled on the next sweater. Making a face, she decided she didn't like the bulky cut at all, and immediately shucked it. As she pulled it over her head, a glint of silver around her neck winked at her from the mirror.

She ran her fingers along the warm metal of the necklace that had given her the name that she knew as hers. It was one of the only things she ever really _wondered_ about. Nothing else--not her injury, not her history, not the precarious situation she'd been found in--ever generated as much curiosity from her as this simple necklace. It just seemed to be so precious to her. The only time she ever removed it was to bathe; touching it gave her such comfort, she didn't want to risk losing it.

And comfort had been so priceless to her recently. If there was anything about her current situation that she hated, it was the aimless, wandering uncertainty that had plagued her night and day from almost the moment she'd awoken. It was absolutely _awful_--to feel so unconnected to anyone or anything, to feel so alien and out-of-place. She felt as though everything around her was exceptionally fragile--and she was haunted by the horrifying possibility that it could break, that it could all crumble in an instant.

It was as if…as if she, herself--_Kagome_--wasn't even…real. As if she were…_false_ somehow.

It was a feeling of distortion, a warped sense of abnormality, lurking to assault her in her most unguarded moments. She would be immersed in the most mundane of tasks--doing dishes, hanging laundry, reading a book to Shippou--relaxed and peaceful, and it would emerge suddenly; it would well up and drift through her entire body and mind, reaching with the glacial fingers of an unwelcome specter. And always, it was accompanied by an elusive sense of terror, colder than the snow at night, freezing the core of her being into a thick chunk of anguish. Those were the times she wanted to curl up and hide.

Or run. Sometimes, at night, alone in her room, it felt like she was always running. And she could never quite understand why.

But slowly, that fear was going away, fading, melting, losing its power over her as she blended more completely into life at the Sachi. The Sachi's very walls seemed to ooze companionship and camaraderie, and with every night she spent in the company of a mischievous kitsune, or a wise old housekeeper, or a rather perverted manager, contentment and well-being were slowly creeping in, phasing out the terror.

She shook herself, then turned back to her shopping with a tiny smile. The next garment in her pile, the last one, wasn't actually a sweater, but a thick, woven top in pale green, and she needed to remove her shirt before she put it on. The sight of herself in her simple white cotton bra gave her pause, and she hesitated again, locking intently with the gray of her eyes in the mirror.

There was something else creeping in, too. With the hanyou owner. Something deep and burning that gained more and more prominence and force as the days went on and they settled into the mundanity of routine. It was like the warm glow of a fire burning deep within, heating up her body and squirming around in her stomach whenever she was near him. A gentle, insistent tug on her spirit, an indefinable lure that drew her closer to him.

And sometimes, in those rare moments when she caught his golden eyes flashing at her, darkened with some quick, unspecified emotion, she thought he felt it too.

"Kagome! What the hell are you doing in there, taking a fucking _nap_?!"

But only sometimes.

With a tiny growl of her own, she dragged the top over her head and whirled. "Fine! Why don't you tell me what _you_ think about this one?!" she snapped, yanking the door open, too aggravated to care about her tone.

He was just on the other side of the door, his fist poised in the air, ready to pound on the door. When she jerked the flimsy partition of wood away, she stepped forward, intending to storm out--and abruptly found her nose buried against the thick, pale fleece of the vest under his jacket.

They both froze.

Her eyes widened in shock; her heart gave a violent skip. Then, sucking in a sharp breath (along with the natural, heady scent of his body permeating his clothes) she reversed direction, jumping back to putting some breathing room between them.

He did the same, his voice bursting out as he jerked a few steps away from her, "Hey! Watch what you're--"

The fact that he cut off with an audible gulp passed over her head with little notice. She took a second to regain her composure, to calm her thudding heartbeat; then, she slowly lifted her eyes to face her irritated employer.

And found _his_ glued to her chest, eyebrows raised, mouth open as if to yell--but making no sound.

Baffled, she followed his gaze, tipping her chin down to stare at her shirt. Immediately, heat surged through her, swirling up to color her face. The top was a button-down, fastening along the front with a long row of tiny white buttons; unfortunately, when she'd dragged it over her head a few seconds ago, she'd failed to realize that almost half the buttons were undone. The upper half of the top gaped open, allowing the pure white of her bra--the basic, soft-molded, front-closure bra--to stand out in stark relief against her skin. Her breasts were prominently displayed, swelling against the parted edges of the soft wool.

Her breath caught in her throat; her eyes flashed back to his face for just a second.

Then her reactions kicked into gear. She shrieked, one hand clutching the edges of the top together, the other reaching out to slam the door shut on his stunned expression. In the quiet following the bang, she clapped her free hand over mouth and spun on her heel, setting her back firmly against the door to confront her mortified image at three different angles. Wide gray eyes peered over the fingers griping at her mouth, and a cherry-red flush covered every inch of visible skin.

_Oh, no, no, no, no! I didn't just…. Oh, gods! Please tell me I didn't just **flash** my **boss**!_

Of course, technically, everything was still covered, but….

She'd opened the door with her shirt hanging open. That practically qualified as a proposition. Letting out a small groan, she buried her face in her hands and slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor, knees drawn protectively against her chest.

Behind her, she heard a half-growl on the other side of the door. "What the hell are _you_ so upset about?" A snort. "It's not like you have anything I haven't seen before anyway."

She winced, then clenched her fists. _Damn him! It was all his fault anyway! If he hadn't been bugging me…._ Her head fall back to thud against the door and she yelled up at him. "Not on _me_, you idiot!"

"Oh yeah?" He shot back immediately, impatience and sarcasm dripping through his tone. "And just whose shirt do you think you were wearing when you first woke up? You think you put that on by yourself?"

She blinked. _When I woke…. Oh._ That was right. According to Kaede, she'd been almost naked when he found her in some river. That meant that, technically, he'd _already_ seen her in far less than a bra and gaping shirt. Her belly gave an unexpected flip at the thought. She bit her lip. _All right. So maybe I did react just a little too…._

She gave a small start and jerked her head upright to meet her own wide-eyed stare_. **His** shirt?! No way…_.

But…. She'd been _sleeping_ in that shirt. It was her way of avoiding the nightgown they'd found her in. Something about the frill-edged garment had given her the shivers since she'd first seen it, and she found the simple t-shirt both relaxing and…well, _comforting_. She hadn't spared a thought to where it had come from, or whether its original owner would want it back.

"Kagome?" Now he sounded gruff, almost tentative, as if he was afraid his words had upset her. "Look, it wasn't--"

She sighed loudly to cut him off, and got to her feet, glaring at the floor to avoid her reflection as her fingers did up the rest of the buttons. "Never mind. It was an accident. We'll forget it happened, ok?" She sighed again, then sent a sidelong glance at her side of the door. "I'm done. I'll be out in a minute."

He hesitated. "Yeah. Just hurry." She sensed him start to turn away, then, into the quiet, he spoke again, tossing his words out casually. "Hey…. That top." For a moment, he sounded strange--somewhere between uncomfortable and amused. "I like that one. Bring it with you."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, but he was gone before she could think to sputter a reply. She turned with a huff, thinking he was making fun of her. _ Likes this one? Honestly._ She caught her reflection and stopped. Her eyes swept her image up and down, and her brow wrinkled.

Buttoned up, the top was actually very…flattering.

It was a perfect fit. The soft wool of the garment caressed her skin, falling gently around the curves of her chest and waist, and the long sleeves hugged her arms before loosening around her wrists. The neckline was wide, starting far out on her shoulder and dipping in a modest curve to about an inch below her collarbone, showing the graceful lines of neck and shoulder and just hiding the gleam of her necklace. The pale shade of green complimented her color nicely, enriching the tone of her skin and emphasizing the grayish swirl of her eyes.

It was nothing she could work in, really…. But it was nice.

Her embarrassment from earlier had settled into a faint pink blush high on her cheekbones. She gave a couple startled blinks at her reflection, and twisted a bit to view the different angles. Then, utterly bemused, she took it off and folded it neatly before adding it to the small pile of clothes she'd decided would be acceptable.

_Well what do you know?_ Tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, she slowly made her way out of the dressing area_. **I** like this one too_.

* * *

"You do that on purpose." Kagome was trying hard not to smile as she pushed out of the small clothing shop ahead of him, stopping outside to avoid the sporadic couples and groups meandering along the sidewalk. She adjusted the single bag on her arm and allowed her gaze to sweep along the various shops and restaurants lining the stone-paved street. The late morning sunshine reflected off neatly swept, randomly scattered piles of snow, causing her to squint from the resulting brightness.

She drew in a deep breath of chilly air and let out a sigh. Sounkyo was an absolutely beautiful place. The day was crisp, the sky clear blue, complimenting the snow-sprinkled vegetation of the surrounding mountains. The alpine-inspired buildings of the town nestled perfectly in the wild backdrop of nature.

_What a pleasant way to spend a morning_.

"Do _what_ on purpose?" InuYasha sounded a bit surly as he came to a stop beside her. The baseball cap on his head shaded his eyes so he didn't have to squint as he glared down at his gloved hands--which were completely occupied with rest of their purchases for the day. She'd offered to take some earlier, but he'd snorted her off, muttering something unflattering about her weak human body.

She took a moment to shrug deeper into her jacket. It wasn't _too_ cold today--the temperature had warmed considerably with the sun--but even during the day the normal temperatures didn't get that warm. She was beginning to understand the necessity of this shopping expedition.

In response to his statement, she tossed him a knowing look. "Every time we've gone into a shop, you've been such a jerk that _everyone_ is ready to throw you out--" she rolled her eyes, "--and then, when we get to the counter, you pull out this huge wad of cash and watch them humiliate themselves to make sure you're happy. You've been doing it all morning."

It was true. He had a small fortune of paper yen in his jacket pocket, and he'd paid for everything they'd bought today with cash. For the life of her, Kagome couldn't imagine how it was safe to carry so much money on your person, but he didn't seem to be worried. More like, he seemed irritated that it was even necessary.

He didn't even bother to deny it. One side of his mouth curled up into a smirk. "Heh. That's what you get in a tourist town. If a customer looks like they have enough money to come back, it doesn't matter who they are or what they do. You can get away with pretty much anything."

"That's terrible!" She frowned at him. "Do you act that way every time you come into town?"

"Tch." He glanced around, ignoring her reproving stare. "I don't usually come into town. Mostly that's Miroku's job."

She sighed. "So why did you come along this time?"

He rolled his eyes at her to emphasize to his point. "Because the last time I let you go shopping on your own, you didn't buy everything you needed, and it's stupid to keep coming back for the same things over and over again." She flushed lightly, and he smirked. "Besides, did you really _want_ me to leave you trapped alone with Miroku in a moving vehicle?"

She made a face at him. "He's not that bad." _With **me**._

That was surprisingly true. Miroku had actually been keeping almost strictly proper around _her_. Recently, anyway_._ Her first few days at the Sachi had been a bit of a trial whenever she was in his presence. His initial spate of 'accidental brushes' had been a surprise, but she'd adjusted readily, quickly learning the arts of the guarded dodge and the outraged shriek. Then, after one particularly disconcerting incident when InuYasha had almost taken his manager's hand off after finding it placed on a _very_ inappropriate part of her anatomy, Miroku's wandering hands had ceased to be a problem altogether.

She had noticed, however, that occasionally some of their more attractive female guests hadn't been so lucky. But he didn't mean any serious harm; all he ever did was inspire a few enraged fits and a resulting irritated put-down from InuYasha. Miroku, she'd concluded, was simply a helpless flirt with a little too _much_ charm and little too _little_ self-control where women were concerned.

"Like hell he isn't," InuYasha grumbled in reply, still searching the area. "He's probably being _that bad _right now." Finally, he just sighed and turned back to her. "We're done, right? We have other supplies to get before we can go back, and I want to get this stuff put away so we can--" He stopped, then scowled. "Shit, Miroku's probably with Koharu. That means we have to meet him for lunch before we can get into the truck. I should have just kept the damn keys."

"Who's Koharu?" Her question was absent, since she was looking over the bags in his hands, checking items off in her head. _Pants, shirts, sweaters, socks…._

"She's a local business woman. A friend of Miroku's. The two of them are…." He paused, then looked away. "Let's just say they have a mutual arrangement if either of them ever starts feeling lonely." His scowl deepened. "That's another one of those reasons why I don't generally come into town with him."

"Arrangement?" _Gloves, another jacket, a fleece liner, some scarves…._

He gave her a steady, expressive look. "Koharu runs the local love motel."

"Love motel?" Brow furrowed, she focused her attention back on him. "What does that…?" She trailed off as she finally caught his insinuation. She blinked, her skin flushed red, and this time it was _she_ who looked away. "Oh." _That_ was information she could have done without. She was sorry she'd asked.

_They actually **have** a love motel in a town as small as this?_

"Well then…." Non-plussed, she returned to her blank stare at the bags, thinking. "Ummm…. I _think_ I have everything…. " She trailed off, frowning. Why did she have the feeling she was forgetting something? Something important? Silently, she went over her checklist once again.

InuYasha had already started walking down the sidewalk. "Fine. Let's go find the damn restaurant. At least we can sit down and eat while we're waiting for him."

She trailed after him, still preoccupied. They passed several lavishly decorated store windows while she tried to recall what she was forgetting. "How will he know where we are?"

He sighed, never breaking stride as he brushed past an older couple who had paused to admire a display of painted artwork, ignoring their double take at the sight of so many bags in his hands. "We always have lunch at the same place. It's where we meet when there's a group of us in town. It cuts down on confusion if we all have different errands to run."

"Oh." Momentarily distracted, Kagome dug around in her jacket's pockets, finally coming up with a folded slip of paper. Hurrying to catch up, she fell into step beside him and waved the white slip at him. "I have this list from Kaede for kitchen supplies. Shouldn't we get those before we go to lunch?"

Frowning, he stopped and shifted all the bags to one hand, reaching out to pluck the paper from her hand. His action drew her eyes to his gloved fingers as he opened the list and read it over. He shook his head and returned the list to her hand. "Don't worry about it. We can pick that stuff up on our way out. All I want to do right now is eat."

"O-o…kay…." She stared after him for a moment, a tiny, thoughtful frown wrinkling the skin between her brows.

He made it a few steps away before he realized she wasn't following and stopped to turn around. At her look, he frowned again. "What?"

Realizing she was staring, she started studied the sidewalk. "Nothing."

He gave her a suspicious once-over, then shrugged. "Come on. The restaurant's just a few streets away, and I'm tired of carrying these damn bags of yours."

This time, he waited for her to go first. She sent him a glare, but obediently moved beside him. "I told you to let me carry some."

"Feh! Are you always so ungrateful when people help you?"

"Only when they're as rude as you." She eyed his hands. He was carrying at least six bags in each one. She hadn't realized they'd gotten so much. Plagued by a sudden fit of guilt, she reached out. "Here, let me at least--"

He actually stopped walking in order to jerk his hands away from her touch. "I told you not to worry about it!"

Offended and slightly put off by his insistence, she huffed, crossed her arms, and tromped off ahead of him. "Fine! Carry it all by yourself, if you want!" After a brief hesitation that didn't escape her notice, and a near-silent snort, InuYasha joined her. For the next few minutes, they didn't speak.

She glanced over at him again, sidelong and surreptitious, her eyes drifting back to his hands. He was wearing gloves today--fitted, dark brown, and made of some kind of leather that his claws didn't easily puncture--and she found them curious. She'd seen him working outside since it'd started snowing, and he'd never worn gloves. It wasn't as cold today as it had been in the past couple of days, and yet, today he covered his hands. Why now?

"Why do you wear them?" she asked, nodding towards his hands.

Surprised at the abrupt question, he frowned at her before following her gaze to his hands. "What the hell are you--oh, these?" He wiggled two of his gloved fingers. His mouth twisted sardonically. "Heh. Local authorities tend to get a little nervous when youkai start walking around with natural weapons exposed."

Kagome thought about that for a moment. "So…you're keeping them _un_exposed to avoid the police?" She had no objections to that. "Is that why you wear the hat, too?"

He grunted, still looking down at his hands. "Something like that."

"Are you hiding the fact that you're youkai?"

He finally looked up at her, taken aback. Then his frown returned, tinged with distaste. "Not _hiding_." He sounded frustrated at the word. "It's not exactly a secret that the owner of the Sachi is youkai. It's more like…protecting."

"Protecting who?"

His frown deepened into a scowl. "Them. You. Me. Everyone."

"But youkai have been around forever, and you're not trying to hurt anyone. Why would they care?"

"_They_ wouldn't." InuYasha was quiet for a moment, then snorted again. "Look--people are happiest when they don't have to deal with the unusual. _I'm_ happiest when I'm left alone. I just don't want the bother."

Well, that was something to chew on. She glanced down at his hands again. "Natural weapons, huh? Have you ever actually _hurt_ anyone with those things?"

To her surprise he stopped, turning his head toward the nearest window--a lingerie shop, displayed with mannequins dressed in nothing but bits of lace and strings--and only somewhat managing to hide his expression in doing so. She stopped, too, and stared at him.

"Yeah." When he finally spoke, his voice had gone flat and dark. "I have."

Speechless, Kagome just blinked at him for a few long moments. Her gaze wandered to the array of intimates in the window in front of him. She blinked again.

He seemed to shake himself and turned back to her with a sigh and a slightly annoyed expression. "Drop it. What I choose to wear in public is none of your business." He nodded across the street to a little café that had a dozen or so white, umbrella-shaded tables scattered in front of it. "That's where we're going, so let's just--"

Gaze still glued to the window behind him, she snapped her fingers. "Ah! That's what I was forgetting!"

"What?" His eyebrows shot up. "There's _more_? I thought you said you were done!"

"Well, yes, but--it's just that I don't quite have enough…." Her words died in her throat as her eyes drifted back to him, then widened in dismay. She felt the beginnings of a blush climb her features. "Uhhh…these weren't on the list."

_Oh, dear._

How was she supposed to approach _this_? It had been an honest oversight--the last time they'd been in Sounkyo, Kaede left her to her own devices when it came to what she wore _under_ her clothes. Unfortunately, she'd been so preoccupied and self-conscious at the time that she hadn't really thought out how many panties and bras a girl really needed when she didn't have any to begin with. She'd…been a little short recently.

InuYasha's scowl was back, and he eyed her blush suspiciously. "Fine, whatever. Let's just get whatever it is now."

_Oh, no. No way am I going underwear shopping with him! I don't care if he is my boss!_ "No! You can't--" She stole a peek at him, then glanced away. "You don't have to come this time. I can handle this on my own."

Now he looked perplexed and suspicious. "Why the hell wouldn't I come?"

She was already shaking her head. "No, no, really. I can get the rest on my own. You go eat. I know where the restaurant is now. I'll come find you once I'm through."

For some reason, he decided to dig his heels in on the subject. A quick, negative shake of his head displayed his opposition to the idea. "You'd probably just get lost on your own anyway, and that's more bother for me. Besides, I'm paying for it, remember?"

She almost groaned aloud. Did he _have_ to remind her like that? The last thing she needed right now was caustic comments on her choice of bra color. "You know, I really don't think--"

"Forget it. I'm coming. We can stand here and argue, or we can get it over with now." The hanyou's head tilted forward as he looked down at her, his golden eyes flashing a challenge at her.

Her eyes narrowed in response, just about fed up with his attitude. "You want to come along? All right." She gestured behind him. "We're here. Let's go." She crossed her arms, waiting to see his reaction--and prayed he wouldn't insist on coming inside with her anyway.

Confused, he frowned at her, then turned on his heel to stare at the store on the sidewalk behind them. She watched as he read over the sign above the door. The oddest look crossed his face. He took a step back and cocked his head. For a long, silent moment, he stared in the window, at the particularly racy display of silk and lace as if he'd never seen it before.

"Kagome…." His voice was quiet, and as strange as his expression. Deeper, maybe. Rougher. "_This_ is…what you were forgetting?"

She hesitated, thrown by his manner. He wasn't looking directly at her, so she couldn't read his eyes, but something about his voice was….

Suddenly, she felt very…exposed.

The heat in her cheeks intensified, and her arms tightened over her chest as her stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably. "Oh, um…well…." She fidgeted, keeping her gaze off to the side. "The last time we were in Sounkyo I wasn't really thinking about how much I would…."

"Never mind." His interruption was brusque, and his voice hadn't lost its roughened quality. "I _really_ don't want to know." An aggravated grumble filtered into his tone. "You should have just said so in the first place instead of arguing with me." He sighed, then shifted bags around until he reached into his pocket. "Here. I'm going to find a table."

She blinked at the roll of money that appeared in her hands. She glanced up at his face but he had already started turning away. _Really? Just… 'Here'?_ "But…. Are you sure?"

"Keh! You sure as hell don't need me for this." He paused, hesitating at the edge of the sidewalk. "Besides, the last thing we need is for someone to see us together in there." He cast a glance at her over his shoulder, his eyes a dark, turbulent amber, locking with hers with peculiar intensity. "Wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression."

The breath in her lungs stopped moving.

_What_…?

What exactly was _with_ that look? It hit her so hard she almost felt it--right there, in that tiny part of her stomach that had been doing random summersaults since the moment they'd been left alone together. She saw anger and frustration and…and a hint of speculation, which she wasn't quite sure he'd meant to show her. Thanks to that look, she just stood there like an idiot caught in a trap, staring while her mind scrambled for something intelligent to say.

Then he released her, dropped his gaze abruptly and turned his back on her. "The café's right across the street. I'll be nearby if you get into any trouble."

She stared at him in shock as he stepped off the curb. The money in her hand suddenly felt heavy, and--flustered, heart thumping loud and fast in her chest--she blinked down at it. "InuYasha, wait. You didn't need to give me _all_ of it, you know."

He didn't even turn around. "Bah. I know how expensive that kind of stuff can get. Just…buy what you need." He paused for a car to pass. "And hurry up. We haven't got all day."

And then he was across the street.

Kagome drew a deep, calming breath, and turned to face the store behind her. _Buy what you need?_ Why did those gruffly mumbled words cause such a twisting in her belly? And why--_why, _oh_ why_--did she feel this nagging twinge of disappointment that he'd given in so easily?

The door pushed open smoothly. The inside of the little boutique was as tastefully arranged as all the rest had been, with the slight difference in merchandise making the whole store seem rather surreal. She bit her lip, staring around until a salesclerk greeted her with a friendly smile and asked her if she needed help. Relieved, she opened her mouth--then frowned.

_Wait a minute. How does **he** know how expensive this stuff can get?_

* * *

A/N: Hello everybody! waves It's Quill--still a part of the living and still writing. Because that's what I do…. (Erm, sometimes. Hee.)

Sorry about the long wait, but I've been otherwise occupied for the past couple months. The good part is that this chapter turned out to be much longer than I had envisioned (Surprise, surprise. That seems to happen a lot with me. I wonder why? O.o) so I had to split it up. This first part is a little shorter, but the next one is almost finished and should be forthcoming in the next couple of days. (Yipee! A close update for once.)

Anyway, I now humbly submit chapter six to your scrutiny. Please enjoy, and let me know if you have any questions or comments, or if you find anything amiss. I welcome all input.

Cheers and Blessings,

Quill

* * *


	8. Cafe Conversations

Disclaimer: Inu, Kagome, et al. do not belong to me, but to the wonderful Rumiko Takahashi. We all bow in awe of her mastery. Thank you for your time.

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

_Damn her. Damn her, damn her, damn her!_

Fierce scowl in place, InuYasha dropped himself into the first empty chair at the first empty table he found. The bags were kicked under the table, and a terse demand for coffee snapped to a nearby waiter. Then he turned the scowl towards the shop in the middle of the opposite street and proceeded to glower.

_Damn bitch._ First the dressing room. Now this. What the hell was she trying to do to him? You didn't just spring shit like that on a guy without proper warning. Just what the hell was he supposed to do with all the images now running around in his head?

It had been going so well, too. After the decision had been made this morning to come into town, he'd been a little worried about sticking so close to her for so long. But they'd had a steady stream of guests since the snow had started, making it impossible to bring either the old woman or the kitsune along. That had left him with the choice of letting her go with Miroku as her only escort in town, or going along himself.

Some choice. His fingers began a steady, restive strum along the tabletop.

__

I hate coming into town.

But taking her shopping hadn't been nearly as bad as he'd expected it to be. Somehow, in the past few days their relationship--such as it was--had shifted a bit, had eased into something more comfortable and relaxed. He hadn't really noticed it until this morning, but…. Running into each other around the Sachi, talking together (without nervousness on her part or hostility on his), and working together, had led to a sort of truce between them. At least, in his mind it was a truce--a little more composure from her, a little less agitation from him, and they'd managed to be useful around each other.

The change had been subtle, but effective; although, he didn't think either of them had realized how much of a difference it was until they'd been forced to spend a significant amount of time together. He snorted quietly, thinking back over the morning. He'd give her one thing--she wasn't boring. She'd even learned not to take too much of his shit.

Which was probably why he found pricking at her temper so gratifying. He could almost call it…_fun_. If he had to be here anyway, he admitted grudgingly, he didn't mind so much being with her.

But he hadn't been expecting her to jump out at him partially clothed. The pristine white of the bra cupping her breasts was now burned into his mind, probably for all time. Something about the innocence of the whole incident--right down to her cherry-faced reaction--had gotten to him, stirring up a rather primal part of him. Then she'd shocked the hell out of him with that damn lingerie shop, and his brain had rebelled on him, kicking up a contrastingly explicit, _unwelcome_ series of thoughts that had left him momentarily frozen with…something.

Something he'd rather not name.

Twice today, he'd had to tamp down on his thoughts, to force his mind into a different direction--any direction--than the one it was heading in. Twice today, he'd been less than successful. And now…. Now he had this faint, smoldering tension churning in the pit of his stomach. He was doing his desperate best to ignore it--again, _without_ complete success.

_Fuck!_

His scowl turned into a momentary wince at his unwise choice in expletives and he growled aloud. The waiter--a kid who couldn't have been more than seventeen--was just returning with the coffee pot, and jumped at the unexpected sound. Coffee sloshed, spilling over onto the table before he could even begin to pour. That, of course, resulted in even further irritation at the ensuing frantic apologies, bowing, and attempting to wipe up the mess.

InuYasha growled again, waving a hand. "Don't worry about it. Just get the fuck away from me--and leave _that_ while you're at it." He pointed at the pot.

The kid's eyes widened. "The whole thing? But I'm not supposed to…."

The hanyou looked at him, giving him a direct, hard stare with his unusual golden eyes. "You got others right? I _want_ the whole thing."

The waiter gulped, then bowed again. "Y-yes, sir."

The kid practically tripped over himself to get away from him. Vaguely disgusted, he grabbed a couple napkins to sop up the majority of the smoking liquid. A soft, resigned chuckle from behind him caused him to stiffen and grimace.

"Well. After that, I hope you plan on leaving a good tip." The glib, familiar voice rose to call out after the waiter. "We'd also like some menus over here at your first opportunity, please."

The kid turned and waved an acknowledgment--darting a swift, nervous glance at the hanyou--before he disappeared into the café. InuYasha gave an impatient grunt as he sat back in his chair and narrowed his gaze on Miroku.

The manager strolled over to stand next to the table, hands shoved casually in his jacket pockets as he perused the mess, his expression indulgent and his manner _annoyingly_ laid-back. "Really, InuYasha, do you think it wise to take your bad mood out on the person who handles our food?"

He snorted. "It's about time you showed up. How's Koharu--and you had _better_ have made it to the damn store before you went to see her."

A tolerant smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Oh, she's fine--quite fit, actually. And yes, I got your tools for you. They're already in the truck." He eyed the bags underneath the table, then studied his friend above them, somewhat cautious as he tried to discern what had caused the scowl. "I see you've been busy." He glanced around the area, then back to the hanyou. "Where's Kagome?"

His gaze went back across the street. "She's still shopping."

Miroku's lifted an inquiring brow. "Alone?" When InuYasha's disgruntled expression merely darkened, he blinked and followed his line of sight. It only took him a few seconds to figure out which shop was on the receiving end of the glare. "Ah. I see." He tilted his head, the dark violet tint of his eyes glinting with rare seriousness. "Are you sure that's okay?"

The question distracted him from his thoughts, and he broke away from the store to stare at Miroku. Then he frowned. "It should be. The store's close enough to keep an eye on from here. I'll be able to tell if there's any trouble." He hesitated, then added quietly, "Besides, none of the people we've run into today have recognized her. Not even the slightest bit."

Miroku sighed, then pulled out a seat and plopped down with his annoying, loose-limbered movements. "It's still the same with the hotels--not that we expected anything different from the last time. I even had Koharu ask around for me, but none of the people either of us spoke with remember a girl of Kagome's description. Of course, it would help if we could take her along, but…."

"But we still don't know who tried to kill her, so we can't bring attention to her," InuYasha agreed, frustration making his movements rough as he poured himself some coffee, adding a liberal amount of cream and sugar. "It doesn't make any sense. She had to come through Sounkyo before she got anywhere near the Sachi. She couldn't have just _dropped_ down into the middle of the Daisetsuzan."

Miroku allowed a faint frown across his face. "Well, just because we can't find evidence of her doesn't mean she wasn't here. It just means we can't find evidence."

"And _that's_ strange too, isn't it?"

"Of course it is--but then again, the whole _situation_ is strange, and has been from the beginning."

The hanyou's expression was grim. "And that leaves us right back where we started."

Silence fell as both men considered their own thoughts, staring blankly--InuYasha at the shop across the street once more, and Miroku at the table. Then Miroku shook himself and sat up to address his employer. "Speaking of strange, you look a little bit of it yourself with that cap. You could probably have gone without it, you know."

InuYasha started, shooting him a surprised look. His ears twitched, producing a telltale movement, but he just scoffed, the set of his shoulders easing just a bit as they fell into the familiar argument. "People don't think too hard about what they don't see. It's better not to remind them what I am."

"You think so?" Miroku scratched thoughtfully at his chin. "I don't know about that. Hanyou aren't exactly rare these days. No reason anyone here would make any kind of connection--especially after so long."

"Hanyou that look exactly like me? We're all pretty distinctive, you know." He rolled his eyes. "Besides, it's what everyone around here is used to seeing from me--and it's better if _none_ of us attract any more attention than necessary. That was your idea, remember?"

Miroku pondered that while he perused the offerings on the table. "Well, it's not as if recognition has ever been a real problem. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"_You_ worry about everything."

"Not at all." The Sachi's manager replied cheerfully, pouring himself a portion from the heated pot on the table. "I take everything into account, and _worry_ only about what is absolutely necessary for my personal well-being."

"Keh." That wasn't even worth responding to, so he didn't bother, just took a cautious sip of over-sweetened coffee.

After a few minutes of amiable quiet, he shifted in his seat, restless again, and found his gaze wandering--yet again--to the shop across the street. A few cars passed by, and pedestrians wandered the sidewalks on both sides, but the entrance had yet to relinquish any of its customers. It had already been over a half an hour since he left her on her own.

Miroku cast him a sidelong glance over his coffee cup. "I wonder where those menus are? You think he forgot--or is simply too scared to come back?"

He grunted, but didn't reply. She sure as hell was taking her sweet time, wasn't she? He didn't even notice the return of his scowl as his fingers started their impatient strumming again. If she didn't hurry up, he was going to have to go get her. The scowl deepened.

_Hah_! _Forget it_!

She could stay in there all day if she wanted. Like hell was he going anywhere near her and anything even _remotely_ silky. Or lacy. Or _white_. His jaw clenched, and his teeth snapped together in his mouth with an audible click.

Miroku raised an eyebrow. His eyes drifted from the hand on the table, to the narrowed eyes and tense features, over to the shop and back again. He "hmm'd", then carefully set his cup back on the table. "So…. Do you suppose she prefers bikinis, thongs, or those adorable little boy shorts that are all the trend right now?"

_That_ got his attention. He gulped and choked at the same time. "How would I--What the _fuck_ makes that any of your business? What the fuck makes you think I even _care_?"

A nonchalant shrug, and the brushed suede of the manager's jacket whispered softly as he sat back in his chair. "You were just staring so intently, I thought you might want to speculate."

InuYasha felt his eyes widen, then narrow in warning. "If you think I'm going to indulge your perverted little fantasies--"

"_My_ fantasies? And here I thought we were talking about yours."

An image of soft green wool framing gently swelling breasts pushed its way to the front of his mind. He looked away, cursing silently. "It's not…." His mouth tightened. "You're wrong. It's just been a long day, and I want to get out of here."

"Oh really?" Miroku's black brows lifted. "If it doesn't bother you, and you're so eager to leave, why don't you just go over there and hurry her up? It's probably best to have one of us with her anyway--just in case."

The suggestion caused the back of his teeth to grind. When he found his voice, his tone was clipped. "She's fine. She'll be out when she's done. She doesn't need me walking in on her."

Miroku went still, blinking several times as he considered his friend's profile. Slowly, his eyes widened and a delighted, barely-there smile crept across his face. "I wasn't exactly suggesting you _literally_ walk in on her." InuYasha winced, and Miroku shook his head. "So _that's_ what's got you in such a bad mood, huh? I wouldn't have thought that seeing a little skin would throw you so badly." His head tilted, seeming to deliberate for a moment. "Unless, of course, it was really _nice_ skin. Then I can see why you would be so on edge--especially considering how long it's been since you--"

He shoved his chair backwards, only just barely managing to dodge the swipe the hanyou made for the front of his jacket. His grin only grew as InuYasha's gloved hand slammed down onto the table instead, rattling plates and silverware.

Aggravation sparked the golden depths of his glare. "Shut _up_, you bastard! And don't even bother to wonder about her skin because you're not getting anywhere near her!"

Violet eyes gleamed. "Did I hit a nerve, InuYasha?"

He surged to his feet, his hand fisting where it rested on the table. "I'm not in the mood to play one of your fucking games, Miroku!"

"She's getting to you. Admit it."

"Like hell she is. Why don't you mind your own damn business?"

His friend sat forward, unwisely putting himself in easy reach. His voice dropped low enough to ensure that only the hanyou would hear. "It's been five years, InuYasha. Don't you think it's about time you rejoin those of us who actually _live_ life?"

His scowl was defensive. "Just what the hell do you think I've been doing?"

Miroku's gaze hardened and he leaned even closer.

"Umm….? I don't mean to interrupt, but…."

They both jumped. Identically wide eyes turned to find the other member of their outing standing a few feet away, a single, discreetly black plastic bag hanging from a string at her elbow. She stared back at them with equally wide eyes as they huddled close over the table.

Shocked, InuYasha stepped back, his legs knocking against his chair. "How did you…." His eyes went back across the street.

She shrugged. "I came over a few minutes ago, but you two seemed to be in a serious conversation and you didn't notice me. I wasn't sure if…." She trailed off as his scowl returned and he grunted out one of his trademark 'keh's.

Miroku blinked, then quickly schooled his features to smile a welcome. "Kagome. You're just in time for lunch. Come sit down."

She blinked at him, then at InuYasha, who immediately sat back down, his expression blanking into indifference. Giving a slight roll of her eyes, she smiled back at Miroku and took the seat opposite him, on the other side of their mutual employer.

Miroku ignored their sullen hanyou in favor of questioning Kagome as she sat. "I hope the morning has been pleasant for you." He indicated the bags still underneath the table. "It seems it was productive, if nothing else."

For lack of anything better to do, she set her bag with the rest of the messy pile underneath the table. "Almost too productive." A faint blush touched her cheeks. "I really don't think I'll need anything else for a long time after this."

Miroku's smile was pleased. "That's a good thing. You'll find we don't come into Sounkyo as much as you would think, so having what we need at the Sachi is important. Are you hungry?"

She nodded, and Miroku glanced around at the other tables, most of which were empty of patrons. "Well, we haven't got our menus yet. I think maybe our waiter," he sent a wry glance at InuYasha, "_forgot_ we were out here. Most of the other customers are inside."

InuYasha snorted, then stood--quickly. "Well then, I'll just have to remind him, won't I?"

Looking half-concerned, half-amused, Miroku immediately shot to his feet, somehow managing to beat InuYasha in his bid to get away from the table. "Ah…. Why don't we let _me_ remind him, hmm? You keep Kagome company." He started away from the table before InuYasha could move, ignoring the suspicious glare sent his way. A faint, almost mocking smile curved his mouth. "After all, if _you_ do it, we might not see our food at all today." His right hand lifted in a careless wave. "I'll be right back."

They watched him weave his way around tables until he disappeared into the café. With an intolerant sigh, InuYasha sat down once again and stared at Kagome. She stared back curiously, but was too polite to comment.

Not quite comfortable with her attention on him, he nodded to the pot in the middle of the table and muttered out the first inane comment that came into his head. "There's coffee, if you want some."

"I see." Her voice reflected the neutrality of his. She eyed the coffee pot, then frowned at the small, soggy mess of napkins that had been pushed off to the side and simply left on the table. She looked askance at him, but he just shrugged. Rolling her eyes, she stood, grabbed a few more napkins from the holder on the table; gathering up the entire mess, she glanced around for the nearest trashcan, and carried it over.

He watched her with a wary gaze.

She was fine; nothing had happened to her while she was on her own. But he was a little surprised--and displeased--that she'd managed to get so close without him noticing her presence. He wasn't usually so careless. His mouth turned down as she returned to the table. It had to be the wind. It was faint, but it was pushing scents away from him, not toward him.

"You can have this back now."

Her voice was soft but clear, and closer to his ear than he expected it to be, seeping through the rough material of his cap. He suppressed a reactive flinch and looked down, surprised to see the roll of money he'd given her earlier appear on the table in front of him. He blinked at it, then up at her as she slid back into her chair.

She gave him a weak smile. "I don't know how you can be comfortable carrying around so much money like that. I was so afraid that someone would steal it from me that I had a hard time remembering what I wanted to get."

He just sat there, distracted by the picture of her, wandering the intimate apparel with a blank stare as she nervously clutched the money in her pocket, that flashed through his mind. A quick, involuntary grin tugged the corners of his mouth upward. "Heh. It can't have been _too_ hard to remember why you were in _there_." He nodded across the street.

For just a second she looked startled. Then another smile--this one almost relieved--flitted across her lips. "No, it wasn't. But you can keep that from now on, okay? I don't think I'll need it anymore." She hesitated, giving him a tentative look. "Thank you--for bringing me out here today. I didn't realize how much I actually needed."

InuYasha studied her features for a moment. Her smile was warm and her face open and friendly, the blue-black strands of her hair scattered around her shoulders in the faint breeze. Inside him, he felt that odd tension ease, just a bit. "You don't have to thank me." His voice came out rough, almost grumbling, and he paused for a moment to give his throat a chance to clear. "I'm just doing for you what I would do for anyone else at the Sachi. It's nothing special."

"Mmm." With that non-committal murmur, Kagome sat forward, resting her elbows along the table. She set her chin in her palm, her gaze drifting around them, taking in the surrounding tables and the general peaceful atmosphere of the town. "But to me, who has nothing, it's special." She turned back to him, still smiling softly. "That's enough for a thank you, don't you think?"

He grunted, but didn't feel comfortable commenting further, so they just sat at the table quietly, waiting for Miroku to come back.

"We'll be going back after lunch, right?"

He allowed his eyes to glance over her again. "After we pick up a few more things."

"It's a shame. It's so nice here--I think I would like to spend a little more time exploring." Her clear, smoke-colored eyes focused on him. "So how often can I expect to come into Sounkyo like this?"

He thought for a minute, then shrugged again. "You know that list Kaede gave you?" She nodded. "We'll get enough of everything on it to last us one month. It's roughly that--although sometimes it's longer, sometimes shorter."

She didn't move for a moment, though he could tell she was thinking that over. "And you don't ordinarily come into town with Miroku." Her eyes went to the cap on his head. "You spend a lot of time by yourself, don't you?"

He shifted in his seat, pulling his gaze away from her to watch the sporadic flow of bikes, cars, and people meandering along the street in front of them. "So? Maybe I like it that way."

Kagome looked almost troubled by his reply. Her brows wrinkled in a frown, but she didn't seem to have an answer. She looked again to the hat on his head, then suddenly sat up straight, drawing his attention back to her. "You should take off your hat."

"What?" He eyed her, unsure how to take the strange demand. "Why?"

"Because--" She stopped, looking uncertain herself, as if she hadn't thought out a precise reason for him to do so. "Because…." Her gaze darted around, searching aimlessly over the colorful, well-kept buildings and surrounding mountains. "Because it's a beautiful day, and you should be enjoying it, not hiding from it."

_Now_ he knew how to react. His brows lowered and he growled. "I'm _not_ hiding."

Her eyes rolled. "Yes, I know, you're protecting. But there's no one to protect right now." She gestured around. "We're pretty much alone."

Not quite true--there were people filtering by on the sidewalks, and one or two scattered among the tables--but she did have a point.

"Besides, your ears can't be comfortable under there."

Another good point--he'd never like them flattened against his head like they currently were. The lining was scratchy, too. Not that he was about to admit those minor annoyances to her. "Keh! My ears are none of your business."

She took one look at his obstinate face and sighed, sitting back in her chair. "I just thought it would be nice. I like to actually _see_ the face of the person I'm talking too, InuYasha. And you don't like that hat, either--you're just too stubborn to admit it." She sighed again, then gave him a sidelong look. "But if you're afraid of what people will think…."

He snorted. What did she think he was--some kid? He was decades beyond letting such a ridiculous taunt get to him. "I don't give a fuck about what _anyone_ thinks," he informed her shortly.

She must have heard something in his tone, because that brought her up short. "You… You really don't, do you?" Her expression, like her tone, was confused. "Then why not take it off? We're just sitting here. It can't hurt."

His scowl turned into an irritated glare that he directed at her--a part of him sincerely hoping to intimidate her into backing off the subject. "Because I don't _want_ to."

The frown was back on her face, carving the skin between her brows. "But _why_?"

Damn. She wasn't going to let it go. "Why do you care?"

"Because…." She bit her lip. "Because I don't _like_ it. That hat makes it harder to talk to you. It's almost as if…. As if you're wearing a mask."

"Wearing a…." The assertion--and the insight that it revealed--shocked him; a sharp jolt shot through him, clenching his stomach muscles. "Tough. _I_ like it."

"Do you?" She was still giving him that odd, probing look. She shook her head. "I don't believe you. I think maybe you feel like you _have_ to wear it."

Again, shock ripped through his chest. His jaw snapped shut and his expression darkened. "Oi. Are you calling me a liar, bitch?"

Her eyes widened at his words, then narrowed as a gratifying spark of temper shot through their depths. She sat forward. "You're not? Prove me wrong, then. Take it off."

His fingers curled around the metal arm of his chair. The challenge was unmistakable--and incredibly unwise on her part when he was already rather fed up for the day, though he was sure she didn't realize it. His immediate--rather disconcerting--impulse was to show her, in the most convenient method available, _why_ challenging him was a bad idea.

He didn't let himself get far enough with that to figure out what the method would be. Slightly panicked, he squashed the urge and let a frustrated growl slip instead. _Stubborn bitch._ This was stupid. The whole damn subject was stupid, and he shouldn't be letting it--letting _her_--bother him. "Will you leave it the fuck alone if I do?"

She hadn't been expecting him to say that. She sat up, her features smoothing out in surprise. Slowly, she nodded. A faint, almost-smile brightened her expression.

His golden eyes studied her face. Then, with another growl and before he could give it too much thought, he grasped at the bill of the cap, tugged it off his head, and slapped it onto the table in front of him. His eyes never broke contact with the clear, smooth gray of hers. His ears, free after so long a confinement, twitched as they resumed their normal shape, adjusting to the chill of the air and the influx of unmuffled sound. "There," he snapped. "Happy now?"

Her gaze darted to the top of his head briefly before the suggestion of a smile blossomed warmly across her features. "Yes." The retort was good-natured and surprisingly cheerful. "Aren't _you_?"

He stared at her blankly. Happy? Because he took off a stupid hat?

She reached out and busied herself with pouring a cup of coffee. Well…. Maybe he _was_ more _physically_ comfortable with it off than on, but….

His eyes drifted back to the cap on the table. Black brows twisted into a faint frown.

This was the first time he'd ever taken the hat off in the middle of town. Ever. It was the first time he'd ever felt the freedom to do so--after all, better safe than sorry, right? And it was his responsibility to make sure everyone stayed as safe as possible.

And yet, there lay the damn baseball cap, right there on the table. And he felt no urgency to get it back on.

A soft, hollow tapping against the table drew his attention. His eyes focused on the slim, feminine hand that had reached out to rest near his coffee cup. He followed the attached arm up to find Kagome looking at him expectantly, as if she'd already said something and was waiting for an answer. He blinked at her, and she gave another one of her exasperated little eye rolls.

"Do you want some more?" She pointed to the coffee pot near her elbow. "It's cooling, so if you want it hot, you should have some now."

He blinked at her again, and felt his expression soften. He drew a shallow breath and allowed his body to relax. Cautiously, he sat forward and gave her a hesitant nod. "Sure."

A brief smile flickered at him as she picked up the pot, before being replaced by a frown as she poured. "Really, it wasn't a very smart idea to leave the whole thing out here--it needs to be kept hot." She set it back in the middle of the table, then glanced around. "Someone should really talk to that waiter."

* * *

Standing well hidden just inside the café's side doors, hands shoved comfortably in his pocket, Miroku watched through a window as InuYasha and Kagome held what looked to be a civil conversation. Interestingly enough, it seemed to be going well, though he did wish he could hear what they were saying. Of course, Miroku found _any_ interaction his employer had with his new housekeeper interesting--especially his reactions.

InuYasha suddenly reached up and ripped the cap off his head. He fixed a challenging glare on the woman next to him as he tossed it onto the table between them.

Both eyebrows lifted and dark eyes widened.

Faintly astonished, he gave a low whistle. "She got him to take it off."

He shook his head, pensive gaze turning inward. He'd been trying to convince InuYasha that he didn't have to wear the cap in town--at least not _every_ time--for several years now. True, the cap and gloves had originally been his suggestion (and probably still_ were _a good idea, if only for the sake of a low profile), but they'd become more than just a safeguard for the one wearing them, and _that_ had never been his intention. Now, they were simply another way the hanyou avoided people, very much like the hostility he routinely used with strangers, and Miroku had long since grown sick of watching it.

But InuYasha was stubborn. He didn't have any desire to expand beyond the isolated group at the Sachi that he considered to be in his care, and he wasn't willing to take even the small risk of removing the cap and gloves, no matter the rationale.

In his more generous moments, Miroku understood completely. Most of the time, though, it just frustrated him to see such idiocy coming from one of the only people he'd ever met that he was willing to call friend.

But after one month with their mysterious new staff member, InuYasha had simply…removed it.

Miroku turned an assessing gaze on the young woman sitting beside his friend as she offered him coffee. Maybe…just maybe… Kaede was right about her, despite her appearance.

It might be to his advantage to get involved in this. Kagome was the first woman InuYasha had paid any attention to in years--though she'd practically had to die to get it. Still, it was a good sign; it would be such a pity to let this opportunity slip by without action. InuYasha was already far more engaged with their attractive guest than he himself realized, thanks to his blind stubbornness. A few pushes in the right direction could have the hanyou's energies focused quite intently on a much more _positive_ path.

Besides, InuYasha was such a pain in the ass when he was cranky--and by Miroku's recollection, he'd been abnormally cranky for just about five years now. It was past time for the hanyou to loosen up a bit. And of course, the fact that it would make _Miroku's_ life easier to have InuYasha's interest directed somewhere _other_ than the Sachi and its inhabitants had nothing to do with the concern he felt.

Absolutely nothing.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Breaking away from his thoughts, Miroku finally turned to acknowledge the waiter from earlier--who had been standing beside him for several minutes now, and was nervously holding a small stack of menus in one hand. He gave the young man a polite smile. "Ah, yes. I was wondering where you were. I just thought you should know that a young woman has joined our table."

"Yes. I am…" the waiter glanced out the window in the direction of their table as he presented the menus with a small bow, "…_terribly_ sorry about the delay."

Miroku shook his head and tucked the menus under one arm. "I'd like to apologize for my friend's behavior earlier. He's…not very good with people, I'm afraid. You have my word that your efforts while we are here will be worth it."

The younger man looked relieved, but dutifully waved his hands in a negating motion. "No, no. Not at all. It's my pleasure."

With a wry smile, Miroku's head turned for another glance at the table. "I wonder." He sighed, then shrugged. "At any rate, you shouldn't worry about him any longer. I have the feeling…." He trailed off, then turned a rather sly look back on the young man. "I believe that he'll be a little easier to deal with now."

The poor boy looked confused, but simply nodded and bowed once again. "I'll be with you in just a moment. Please enjoy yourselves until then."

Miroku gave a slight bow of his own. "Of course. Please take your time." His disinterested gaze followed the waiter as he made his way around the tables and customers populating the inside of the café. For just a bit, he allowed his eyes to drift over the elegantly appointed furnishings and soft lighting, taking in the quiet atmosphere of clinking silverware and murmured conversations, absorbed in his thoughts.

Kagome's arrival at the Sachi was both inconceivable and alarmingly coincidental--and Miroku had never been fond of situations that he didn't fully understand. At the very least, she was a cause for great caution.

His attention settled momentarily on the entrance, a set of beautifully designed french double doors off to his right. They were thrown open in welcome to any potential customers, and people could be seen strolling idly by along the sidewalk in front.

Still…. Despite the circumstance, she might actually turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

A figure across the street from the café passed into his line of vision.

Miroku blinked, torn from his thoughts as his eyes focused, almost of their own will, onto one of the most _intriguing_ feminine forms he had ever been privileged to view. He was too far away to see much of her features, but he noted the straight bangs framing the smooth face and the wide, exotically shaped eyes. Her thick, dark-brown hair was tied into a loose tail and hung down her back, swaying as she walked--the wavy tip of the mass just brushing against….

One of the _most_ luscious backsides he had ever seen.

_And just **who** is **that**?_

She was a vision, dressed warmly, and with a large duffle bag slung across her back, and a bulky square traveling case of some kind in one hand. She walked slowly, her head turning to read signs and scan the area as she went. She looked like she was lost.

And she was moving away from him.

Completely forgetting about InuYasha and Kagome, Miroku found his feet moving, heading for the entrance and that beautiful young woman. If she were lost, she would need directions, right? She _was_ alone, after all. She was probably new in town and looking for her hotel. He could point her to some nice ones, maybe offer to escort her to the gorges a little later.

He could find out her _name_.

"Sir? Excuse me--sir!"

The voice almost didn't penetrate his occupied thoughts; if it hadn't been a soft, feminine, and slightly concerned voice, it wouldn't have.

He stopped just outside the doors, sending a distracted, somewhat irritated glance over his shoulder at the woman who was calling out to him. She was a young woman, pretty enough, with short black hair held back with barrettes and the uniform tux-shirt that all the employees at this particular café wore. She came walking up to him rather quickly, and drew to a stop with a stiff, but polite, bow. "Please pardon me, I don't mean to inconvenience you, but…." She straightened and pointed at the menus under his arm and gave him a funny look. "Those belong in here."

Miroku glanced down, surprised to realize that he'd forgotten he even had them. He looked up with an embarrassed grin and scratched sheepishly at the back of his head. "Oh, of course. My apologies. You see, I was just--" He turned to point out the mysterious woman, only to break off.

She was gone.

"Just…."

That was fast. She must have reached a corner and turned off. Disappointment swept through him--a surprisingly strong reaction for him to have for any member of the opposite sex. He briefly considered handing the menus over and following to see if he could find her, but decided that, beyond being too much work, that would be a little too odd an action to live down if InuYasha ever found out. And Miroku was nothing if not practical.

He turned the full force of his most charming smile on the waitress. "I just thought I saw someone I knew. Nothing important. Forgive me for the trouble. I'll return to my table now."

She looked askance at him, but returned his smile. "Of course. No trouble at all." She stood back, her spine against the doorframe and waited with a pointed stare.

Miroku sighed and hesitantly moved past her and back into the café. The waitress's smile grew, and she nodded her thanks to him and followed him inside.

He didn't look back. Whoever she'd been, she was just some woman, nothing more. She'd caught his eye, but now that she had disappeared, she wasn't worth spending any more time thinking about. Just some random, albeit lovely, woman.

Nothing more.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so I'm trying a little experiment, and I'd like your help.

Normally I like to keep my chapters a little longer, but I'm finding that the way the sections are falling, they're reaching to just outside my cut-off range for length (which is 12,000 words. Anything more than that, I have always felt, is too long for any one chapter.). So I'm having to break them in half--but then they're just a little shorter than I like them to be, and I'm not entirely comfortable with that, either. So, author mini-poll time: does anyone out there find it difficult to read longer chapters like that in one sitting? Is the length as they've been (around 6,000 words) acceptable? Not sure if I'm going to keep them as short as they've been, but I'd like some feedback on the concept from people who read these with a fresh perspective.

**Sounkyo**, **Japan**, just so everyone knows, is an actual place in the Hokkaido region. However, for the purposes of this story, _my_ Sounkyo is only somewhat loosely based on the real place. It only faintly reflects the real place, and I'm not trying to insult the place or mislead the reader in presenting it the way I do.

**Daisetsuzan National Park:** located in the mountainous center of the northern Japanese island of Hokkaido. Daisetsuzan is the largest national park in Japan.

As always, any questions, comments, or corrections are welcome and appreciated.

Cheers and blessings,

Quill


	9. Glue

Disclaimer: Proof of ownership…. ? Wait, let me check…. Hold on a sec, I know I have it somewhere….

Oh. Guess not.

Inu and friends still aren't mine. I guess my evil plot to switch bodies with Takahashi and have them all to myself failed. :cry: Oh, well. Enjoy what I've borrowed.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

* * *

The drive back to the Sachi was much more pleasant than the ride into Sounkyo had been--although, surprisingly, it was Miroku who was quiet this time around. On the drive _into_ town, InuYasha had been the one who was obstinately silent, and Miroku the one who supplied the easy chatter. But Kagome spent the drive back in aimless, rather pointless--but agreeable--conversation with InuYasha about the various aspects of Sounkyo's seasons, as well as its famous hot springs and gorges. For someone who didn't actually like to be in the town, he sure knew an awful lot about it, as well as the area that surrounded it.

He'd just finished telling her about the upcoming ice festival--and the various sculptures and light effects that would help bring in a further inundation of guests--as they pulled off the dirt road that led to the Sachi. The gravel 'parking area' that sat in front of the small mansion was reserved for the few guests who actually drove cars. Since most guests traveled by train and bus, and used the ropeway station that was only a few minutes' walk away to get to and from Sounkyo during their stay, it was usually empty save for their vehicle.

"This festival sounds like fun. Do you all take a night out to go see it every year?" Kagome jumped out of the truck and followed as the two men disembarked and walked around back of the vehicle to start unloading their supplies.

InuYasha grunted, lifting the back gate and pulling out the large bag of rice that Kaede had requested. "Are you kidding? We have too much work to do around here to bother with tourist shit."

She gave him a sour look--which he ignored--and held out a hand to take some of the bags. He handed Miroku a few, but continued to act as if he didn't see her obvious bid to help. Her eyes narrowed.

Miroku glance slid between InuYasha and his housekeeper, who was beginning to look seriously affronted, and chuckled, speaking up for the first time since they'd left Sounkyo. "The festival lasts for a while, Kagome. Kaede takes Shippou in at least once during every year, and since I'm the one who goes into town most often, I usually manage to catch it as well." He reached out and hooked a few of her clothes bags over her still outstretched arms. "It's our dear employer who hasn't _ever_ experienced the wonders of the Sounkyo ice festival."

"Oh." Her arms dropped to her side. She propped her fists on her hips and considered InuYasha as he gathered a few more bags and set the rice bag over his shoulder. "But that's terrible. You live so close and you've never seen it? We should--"

"Forget it." He cut her off flatly, turning to brush past her as he made his way towards the front door of the Sachi.

She blinked, then frowned at him. "But--"

"I ain't goin' into town for something silly like a festival. It's a waste of my time." He paused to slant her a look over his shoulder. "If _you_ want to go, that's fine with me. But _I'm_ not." He walked off again, his feet crunching softly across the snow-spattered gravel.

Behind her, Miroku chuckled again. "Don't bother, Kagome. In all the years we've been here, I've never seen him even remotely interested in attending the ice festival."

Exasperated, she glanced back at Miroku, then turned to follow after InuYasha at a determined march. "But aren't you the least bit curious about what it's like? Aren't you the least bit interested in seeing the sculptures?"

He didn't even look at her as he climbed the short steps to the front door. "Nope."

She persisted, sticking right on his heels as he threw open the door and stepped inside, kicking his shoes off into the tiled area that made up the floor immediately beyond the threshold. The Sachi didn't have a traditional genkan, but the tile served the same purpose, and had presumably been built solely for keeping visitors' shoes--several of which were lining the wall, evidence of their recent increase in business. "Well, I think you should. It sounds beautiful--especially at night. And everyone deserves some time off for something fun, right?" She followed suit and stepped after him in her socks.

He gave a short, derisive snort and stepped onto the wooden floorboards, heading past the reception desk towards the kitchen. "I'm giving you whatever time off you want for the stupid festival. Just don't expect me to go with you."

She made a face at his back. "Working all the time is bad for you. You shouldn't be afraid to relax every once in a while. If you did that, maybe you wouldn't be so _cranky_ all the time."

He came to a dead stop in the middle of the reception area, opposite the desk, the heavy bag of rice still over his shoulder. Surprised, she only just managed to stop before she ran smack into his back. He turned, eyes narrowed in annoyance to glare down at her. They were only inches apart.

Too close.

Kagome swallowed and backed up a step.

He barely seemed to notice. He even leaned in a little to emphasize his point. "I don't fucking _care_ what you do. But if you think you're going to get _me_ into the middle of a bunch of damn tourists wandering around without any real fucking clue what they're doing, you're out of your fucking mind. Stop wasting your breath trying to convince me."

She forgot her discomfort and returned his glare, immediately ticked off. "Hey! Anyone ever tell you to watch your mouth?" She gave a soft huff. "I just thought it might be fun!"

He growled at her. "As if you even knew what my definition of fun is! And if you don't like the way I talk, then quit bothering me and you won't have to hear it!"

Her hands, still occupied with the bags she'd carried in, fisted. "You don't want me talking to you?" Her shoulders straightened. "Fine!"

Color high with indignation, her shoulders straightened, and she fixed him with her haughtiest stare. She gave a sniff of disdain and stepped forward, intending to brush right past him. "I won't _bother_--"

She didn't get any farther than that.

Looking rather indignant himself, he started to back up a few steps as well, obviously intending to avoid her--only to have his feet abruptly stop moving. His entire body swayed as if he were suddenly fighting to retain his balance, as well as his hold on the bags in his hands. "What the…." The expression of confusion that flashed across his face was almost comical.

But she didn't have time to find it amusing, or even to smile, because (disconcertingly enough) at the exact same moment, both of _her_ feet landed in a thick, cold, gooey substance. And _stuck_. Her socks sank firmly into the oddly textured stuff and it adhered to them, sucking her feet down as she automatically tried to lift them. They wouldn't move more than an inch in any direction.

Too bad her momentum didn't follow suit.

Her feet jerked to a halt, but the rest of her didn't. Glued to the floor, bags in her hands, and utterly off balance, she pitched helplessly forward. Straight into InuYasha.

The hanyou saw her coming, saw the inevitability of her collision with his body, but barely had time to react with a growled "Hey! Watch ou--" before the full weight of her body slammed into him. Equally unable to move his feet, he lost his barely-regained equilibrium and started to fall back. Panicked, he dropped everything in his hands and grabbed at her. His arms wrapped around her back and pulled her tight against him, using their bodies as a brace to keep them upright.

Several bags plopped down into the strange goo around them. The bag of rice made a loud 'whump' as it hit the floorboards and split open and rice spilled across the floor.

For the second time that day, Kagome found her face shoved into the pleasant warmth of the clothes against his chest. Except this time, the entire upper part of her torso was nestled comfortably against his front, the feeling deceptively similar to a hug. It was the closest she could ever remember being to him.

"Don't move." His voice muttered close to her ear. His body felt tense, and a serious, urgent warning laced through his tone. As per his instructions, and because she found she couldn't do anything else, she froze. He didn't make another sound for the next few moments, and it seemed to her--though she couldn't see him--that he was scanning the reception area and surrounding rooms.

Into the silence, the only sound that was heard was the soft rattle of tiny kernels rolling over each other as the flow of rice slowed to a stop. Stunned, Kagome just stood there, leaning against him as if he were the only thing holding her up. Which was probably true. She drew a deep breath, and blinked.

_What…. What just happened?_

He muttered something else--something so soft and quiet that she actually missed it--and abruptly, she felt him relax. It was his turn to draw a deep, calming breath, and then, "What…the…_hell_…is going on here?!"

She jumped as his yell rumbled through his chest and into her cheek. He sounded just as stunned--and twice as angry--as she felt. Snapping out of her disorientation, she jerked back, pulling away from the stability of his body. He allowed it, but refused to relinquish his hold on her entirely, his hands sliding to lay heavy on her shoulders. Good thing, too, because she overcorrected with the unthinking action, and almost tipped over backwards.

He steadied her again. She turned her face up to stare at him with wide eyes. His scowl was ferocious; however, it wasn't directed at her, but at the floor beneath them.

"Wh…wha…" Unable to voice a coherent question, her mind scattered by shock, she just looked down. And frowned in disbelief. The goo they were standing in was white and thick, and was spread over a small area of the floor from the reception desk to the middle of the foyer. And they were smack dab in the middle of it.

"What…." She tried to lift her feet and met with soft-textured, yielding resistance. She didn't understand. The stuff looked like rice pudding--it even made that wet, slopping sound that pudding made when it moved. It was pliable and slick, so she _should_ just be able to slide right out of it--except her feet refused to move more than a half an inch in any direction. It wasn't even simply being stuck, either. Since whatever it was had suppleness and pliability, she wasn't stable, and every time she moved, she risked losing her balance. "What _is_ this stuff?" Better question: _how in world had they missed seeing it?_

He was growling--quiet, low, and steady in his chest. "I haven't got a fucking clue, but whatever the hell it is, I can barely move." He lifted his foot, but only managed to get it about an inch off the ground before it was sucked back in. His lip curled. "Shit! What the fuck _is_ this?!"

Confused, she tried again, tugging experimentally upward with her legs. She got the same result as before, but with the bags still in her hands, she almost lost her balance again. With an alarmed cry, she finally dropped them and grabbed onto his arms.

"Don't _do_ that, idiot!" He snapped it at her, frustration deepening his usual roughness. "You're too damn close--if you fall, I will, too! This shit is too slippery to move around in much, and the last thing I want is to be stuck to the floor with you."

She bit her lip. "_Sorry_." Then she frowned at him. "So how _are_ we supposed to get free?"

"Fuck if _I_ know!" He grimaced and ran his eyes over the deserted foyer. His ears twitched, and he snorted. "Of course. No one around." His eyes went to the open door behind her and his voice raised in a yell. "Oi! Miroku! Get your ass in here!"

No response.

Either the manager didn't hear, or he was ignoring his boss. Not unusual. Kagome sighed and glanced back down at her socks. The strange goo had pretty much covered them, but it hadn't seeped through the cotton yet. Maybe if she…. Experimentally, she started wiggling her toes.

With another snort of disgust, InuYasha twisted, looking behind him at the stairs, the doors, and the hallways, all leading into various areas of the inn. "Baba! You there?" His voice echoed off the walls, but nothing moved and no responding sounds were heard. On her shoulders, the grip of his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly. He sighed, then looked up at the ceiling, sounding rather desperate as he yelled at the house in general. "_Anyone_?! Someone get me the hell _out_ of this!"

His tone irked her even more than his words, and her brows narrowed in annoyance. "What? Am I _bothering_ you again? Sorry, but it's not like it's my fault."

He glanced down at her in surprise and reflected her annoyance back at her. "Of course it bothers me! We're practically _stuck_ to each other now! Shit--this whole damn _day_ has been bothering me!"

A dull flush of heat spread across her cheeks and neck. So he really didn't like being so close to her, huh? He really did find her that troublesome? _Jerk._ Avoiding looking at him, she concentrated on freeing one of her feet. It was tricky. The muck had molded itself around her feet, and it stretched to kept its hold when she tried working them out of the socks.

__

Does he **always** have to act like I'm a such burden?

"Well _I_…" Tug. "…want…" Tug.

_I'm not really that bad, am I? I try my hardest._

"…to…" Tug. "…get out…" Tug.

_And here I really thought I was making progress with him, too. Humph._

"…of here." Tug. "…too!" Her next fierce yank sent her into a precarious wobble.

"Hey!" Black brows shot down warily, and he immediately steadied her. "What the hell do you think you're doing? If you keep that up--"

She shook her head. "My socks are stuck, but my _feet_ aren't." Her hands wrapped tightly around his forearms and she braced herself for a strong wrench. "I think I can get--" She tugged again, and felt her feet starting to slip from the material encasing them.

His eyes widened. "Whoa--stop! Just stop! Someone will come and--"

One foot came loose. Unprepared for the sudden release, Kagome overbalanced and, with a shriek, tipped forward into InuYasha. He caught her and tried to steady them both as he'd done before, but her other foot slid from it's anchoring sock a split-second after the first, and she slammed into him. Hit with the full force of both their weight combined, and still unable to move his feet around properly to adjust for the change in center, he was unable to prevent them from falling.

They crashed to the floor, landing hard in the goo with a wet-sounding splat.

The impact pushed most of the air from Kagome's lungs. Breathless, stunned to find herself horizontal rather than vertical, she groaned. Then she lifted her head from where it had collided with his jacket, and struggled to take in her initial rush of impressions.

Breasts to chest. Belly to abdomen. Hips, pressed firmly against a warm, living surface.

Her eyes widened and her lungs sucked in a tiny gasp of air. _Ohhhh…._

She was literally _plastered_ on top of him. Every inch of her front molded intimately against every inch of his. She paled, then flushed a hot, fiery red, bombarded with mortification, dismay--and a tiny zing of hyper-awareness that rushed through her, leaving a faint, tingling sensation in its wake.

He groaned, drawing her eyes to his face. His eyes were still closed, his face scrunched up from the impact of the fall. A growl rumbled in his throat, vibrating through his whole body, and he hissed in annoyance. "Fuck." His eyes cracked open, and he glanced around. "Stubborn bitch. I _told_ you not to do that, didn't I?"

They focused on her. Widened. She saw that same awareness flare bright in his golden gaze, accompanied by a brief flash of panic. She felt his chest expand as he drew in a breath, and realized that the heavy weight pressing down on her back was his arms, keeping her from tumbling off into him the sticky mess around them. She started to flinch back, bracing herself for some close-proximity yelling.

But he didn't say anything. He didn't move. He didn't look away. He just lay there, staring at her with eyes so intense that she almost felt as if they were penetrating into her very skin.

Kagome stared back, caught in the look. She felt…heavy, sluggish. She knew she should get off him; dimly, a part of her brain even ordered her to so. She just couldn't make herself move. Her heartbeat had kicked up a furious rhythm in her throat; her breathing had grown scatty and shallow. Every time she inhaled, her chest pressed a little closer to the firm surface of his, and the air ghosted through sensitive lungs to swirl in the pit of an anxious belly.

Involuntarily, her tongue slipped out to wet dry lips.

His eyes widened even further, and then he gave a tiny start--one so insignificant that she almost missed it--and abruptly yanked his gaze off to the side. "A-are you ok?" His words were quiet and gruff, but lacking in the anger he'd had only moments ago.

He startled her out of her daze, and she blinked for the first time in what seemed like hours. "I--y-yes." Finally regaining control of her body, she made an attempt at movement, squirming around to get her elbows under her. Bracing her palms on his chest, she pushed herself into a semi-sitting position, making them both aware, at the same time, of yet another problem for them to deal with.

They froze and stared at each other in horror.

His feet were still stuck to the floor, so he'd fallen with both knees bent. She'd been off balance, so she'd fallen at an angle to lay flat along his side. In order to accommodate their positions, her legs had draped on either side of his leg, forming a straddle over his thigh. His legs had her thigh cradled between them, while she…. _She_ was pressed firmly against him in one of the most intimate ways possible.

She watched his eyes close tight. She watched him draw a deep, calming breath. "Think you can get off me without my help?" His words were carefully pronounced, but his voice sounded strained.

Even though he couldn't see her, she nodded. Cautiously, she attempted to push up and away from his body. The movement pressed her even harder against his thigh, producing the oddest sensation--a warm, thick, spreading heat in the pit of her stomach. Her lungs constricted tightly, and she pressed her lips together in a desperate bid to ignore the reaction. Instead, she focused on getting out of the mess they currently found themselves in.

And failed. When she realized why, she glanced down behind her, winced, and looked up at his face. "Umm…." She kept her tone appropriately meek. "I…can't."

One golden eye popped open to glare at her. "What the hell do you mean you _can't_?"

She bit her lip, worrying it for a moment. "My legs are…stuck."

The declaration prompted both eyes open and he glanced down to where her visible leg rested flat in the sticky goo, adhered to the floor from pant knee to bare toe. He gave it a harassed, disbelieving look. "Oh, _come on_!"

In sympathy, she tried again. "Maybe if I…" Using her hands, she tried pushing away from him again, and only managed to wiggle around a bit.

An odd choking sound escaped his throat, and his hands clamped down tight on her hips. "Stop. Moving." His voice sounded strangled, and he looked a little bit like he was in pain. His eyes were closed again, too. "Just stop."

She stilled, save for the shallow breathing that the wriggling had produced in her. Almost absently, she placed cool fingertips against her cheek, trying to soothe the heated skin. Considering the friction that moving around caused, she found herself silently agreeing that trying to free themselves that way was probably a bad idea. "Wha--what do we do now? We can't stay here like this."

He swallowed visibly, then his eyes opened and he scowled at her again. "Shit. All right. _You're_ obviously not strong enough--we'll never get anywhere with you doing the work. Don't move. I think I can sit up, and it'll be easier if I have more leverage."

"Now isn't _that_ the most interesting thing I've heard you say in a while? I've never known you to have trouble with your positions, InuYasha." Miroku's highly amused, somewhat speculative voice drifted out from the back hallway, drawing closer as he spoke.

Kagome's head jerked up in shock to see the Sachi's manager come to a stop just in front of the stairs, arms crossed lazily, head tilted to the side. He was studying them as if they were some fascinating new life form that had managed to sprout from the floor. "And here I was wondering what had happened to you two."

InuYasha twisted his head around to glare behind him. "It's about time. Where the fuck have you been?"

Miroku looked surprised and walked a few steps forward. "Me? I was putting the supplies away--in the kitchen, where most of them belong." His dark violet eyes took in the open door before returning to the two on the floor. "I just didn't bother going _through_ the house when it's easier to go _around_ it." He paused. "Although, now I'm kind of sorry that I did." He nodded, eyebrows lifting in inquiry. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't these kind of things usually kept in private?"

Kagome almost groaned aloud when she realized what he meant. _Oh, well. At least my face can't get any redder than it already is._

Beneath her, InuYasha just snarled viciously at his manager. She was a little surprised to see a tiny bit of red dusting his cheeks as well. "Look you…. It's nothing like…. We're not--can't you see that we're _stuck_?!"

"Stuck?" Miroku just looked at them blankly. "How so?"

For a moment, they both just gaped at him, equally incredulous.

Then Kagome stirred, not really sure if he was being serious or not. She lifted a hand to gesture cautiously at the floor around them. "We're stuck in--in all this. This gooey stuff."

Miroku's eyes drifted leisurely across the floorboards, then returned to rest on her with mild curiosity. "_Gooey_ stuff? What gooey stuff?"

She blinked at him. "You don't see it? But it's all over this part of the floor." She waved her hand again. "It's…white…and…_sticky_….and we can't move because it's all over us." InuYasha started making those choking noises again. She looked down at him, slightly concerned, only to find his eyes closed and his expression twisted into a long-suffering wince.

Confused, she went over her words. Her eyes widened, then abruptly squeezed together into a horrified cringe as she found (much to her dismay) that the crimson on her face actually _could_ go a few shades darker.

Miroku looked like he was about to choke, too. On laughter. "Oh, now I _am_ impressed, InuYasha. All that with your clothes _on_?"

InuYasha responded with a deep warning growl. "Use those brains you're so convinced you have, you damn pervert! Do you really think I'd still be on my ass right now if I could get up?"

His words had the desired effect of sobering Miroku up enough to have him taking a closer look at their predicament. He studied the floor around them once again, and this time a frown flickered in to replace his gloating expression. "But…. I don't see anything." He took a few more steps forward, bringing his bare feet dangerously close to the edge of the mass of goo.

InuYasha's expression was half skeptical, half pissed-as-hell. "How the _fuck_ can you not _see_ all this shit?!"

"Well, it's not like _we_ saw it either," Kagome felt compelled to point out.

His eyes narrowed back on her. "Of course we didn't see it. _You_ were too busy taking up all my attention by harassing me about the stupid ice festival."

Her back stiffened slightly, and she sat forward, almost oblivious to the way it pressed her entire body harder against his. "_You_ were the one who started yelling at _me_, remember?"

Still around her hips, his fingers tightened, pressing into the material of her pants. "Only because _you_ don't understand the word no! Something must have gone wrong in that brain of yours when you got hurt."

Her hands fisted, thumping softly against his chest. "Well excuse me if I think that relaxing a little is just as important as--"

"Wait." Miroku crouched down suddenly, and they broke off to stare at him as he tipped his head to the side, concentrating intently on the floor in front of him. Then his eyes widened. "Oh."

"Oh?" They glanced at each other.

Instead of responding, Miroku held two fingers up to his mouth and murmured what sounded like a soft series of chants. Abruptly, his hand swung down and waved over the odd substance keeping them glued to the floor. All around them, the air just above the sticky stuff shimmered faintly. Then a strange seeping feeling, similar to heat rising off a hot stove, as power dissipated into nothing.

A chill went through her body, raising the hair on her arms. Kagome frowned, disconcerted by the sight, and by the nagging sense of familiarity that flooded over her. She'd _seen_ something like that before. What was it?

_A spell. A dispersal._ The words flickered to life in her mind, bright points of light in the otherwise pitch-black emptiness of her memories. She went still.

She knew what he was doing. She knew those terms, knew what they meant. The brief flash came to her so naturally that it was almost instinctive. Miroku was exercising a fairly basic skill with the spiritual powers everyone assured her he possessed, but rarely used. More knowledge that she didn't know where it came from, knowledge that was just _there_, hanging unsupported and alone in her mind, a jagged piece of a bigger picture that she simply couldn't see. Her eyes drifted down, focusing on her hands as she tried to figure out what that meant.

After a moment, Miroku pulled his hand back and studied them again. He whistled low. "That _is_ quite a mess." Dark violet eyes leveled on InuYasha. "An illusion. Designed so that you could only see the stuff if you were touching it. A decent one, too. I'm impressed. He couldn't do anything this complicated when we got here. He's been practicing."

The hanyou groaned, then started shouting. "Shippou! You little brat! How many times have I warned you about playing pranks on the guests!"

"Ah…." Miroku scratched at his head, his amused expression beginning to return. "Somehow, I don't think this was intended for the guests." When the two on the floor just looked at him, he shrugged and pointed around in a vague, general wave. "All the signs today are directing the guests away from the front entrance." A hint of a grin hovered at the corners of his mouth. "Something about a big mess and repairs necessary." He added, almost to himself. "I was wondering what that was about."

The significance of that took a full minute to sink in. Then, with an infuriated growl, InuYasha was slapping his hands down into the goo on either side of him and pushed upright, struggling against the gummy elasticity as it tried to pull him back down. "Like…_hell_!"

Kagome--half-preoccupied with her stubborn mental block--gave a startled cry at the unexpected movement. Her hand fisted in the jacket covering his torso, trying to keep from being dislodged as the hanyou beneath her fought into a sitting position. Her thighs tensed, tightening their clasp around his, and for a few moments, she wobbled precariously.

It took him a good thirty seconds to break the hold the stuff had on his back. It was only after he was all the way up that he realized how close he'd put them. His nose brushed against her forehead, and his entire body came to an abrupt halt. His eyes, darkened gold, locked with hers and widened slightly. She was fascinated to see his pupils dilate with shock.

Kagome's lips parted, and she stopped breathing at almost the same instant that she felt the warmth of his breath wash over the skin of her cheek. Her mind blanked out, leaving her at a complete loss--not that she could have done much of anything anyway.

She was trapped now, even more effectively than she had been before. Her legs were still stuck to the floor, and with his shift, she found herself wedged tightly between his knee and his torso. She'd just effectively lost any range of movement she'd had before. Except her head. She could mover her head. And that presented a whole other range of problems. If she bent her head about half an inch forward, her face would fit comfortably between his shoulder and neck--but if she tilted her head up, just a little bit, the her lips would….

He knew it, too. In the second it took them to look away from each other, she saw the realization flash--like the small heated sparks thrown out by a fire--through his gaze. She felt an answering jolt, deep in the pit of her belly, and then they had both turned their heads to stare at opposite sides of the floor.

A few seconds of odd, thick silence ensued.

When InuYasha realized that his hands were still stuck in the odd muck, he growled again and started tugging cautiously, attempting to free his hands without sending them both back into the weird paste. "Shippou!" He sounded frustrated, and as infuriated as she'd ever heard him. "Start running now, you damn spoiled little brat! Because when I get my hands on you, you're going to _beg_ me to let you clean the damn baths all by yourself! _Both_ of them!" He wasn't having much success with his hands; he would get them a few inches off the ground, only to have the strings of goo attached to his fingers and palm snap it back down. "Fuck!"

"Interesting." Miroku hadn't moved from his crouch, and now had his elbow propped on a knee and his chin in his palm. He appeared to be thoroughly engrossed by the whole dilemma. "You're right, you know. It's a problem of leverage. Technically, you should have no trouble getting out by yourself, but with Kagome…ah…_in the way_ as she is, you can't make full use of your strength."

His response was another growl. "Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to do something useful?" His hand lost its battle once again. "Gah!"

Miroku lifted his chin from his palm, looking genuinely shocked. "You don't honestly expect _me_ to get in the middle of _that_, do you?" He paused, then added. "You should try freeing only one hand first. You might get more impact if you focus all your strength on one hand."

"After I'm done with Shippou, you're a dead man." He followed Miroku's advice anyway, shifting just slightly to the side so he could focus on his right hand. Kagome's grip on his jacket tightened as their center of balance changed once again.

Miroku gave a noncommittal hum. "That's _if_ you ever get out."

"You're fucking _asking_ for it, you know that!"

"Maybe, but I ask for a lot of things I never get." A sigh. "Sadly enough."

Kagome just rolled her eyes and decided to ignore them for the moment. She honestly didn't know what she was supposed to do. She'd never (at least, she _thought_ she'd never) been in a situation like this before. She was literally glued into an embarrassingly intimate position--_with her boss_--in the middle of one of the most public rooms in the Sachi. They were unable to move even after they'd acquired an audience, InuYasha and Miroku were playing one of their verbal snipe games, and here _she_ sat in the middle of all of it, more hindrance than help.

And to top it all off, she was actually starting to feel _comfortable_ in the middle of this mess. Her neck felt strained from holding her head away from InuYasha's chest, and the temptation to relax a bit and allow her forehead to drop against his shoulder was a becoming difficult to ignore. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

At least she could feel the tension leaving InuYasha as well. With each tug of his hand or snapped word, a little more of the rigidity would leave his body--subtle degrees of change that left the feel of the frame cradling hers far more…natural and relaxed. Less forbidding, more accepting.

She wondered if he even realized it was happening.

With a loud sucking sound, his hand came free, but it was still covered in the goo. He scowled at it, then turned to his other hand, somehow managing to avoid looking directly at her as he did so.

Miroku nodded. "There. See? If you'd listen to me more often--"

"Shut up."

She sighed. "How does that help? His hands may be free, but if he touches anything, won't he just get stuck again?"

"Keh! Does anyone even know what this stuff is?"

A weathered chuckle sounded from behind Miroku, and this time it was Kaede's voice that drifted into the reception area from the back hallway. "A rather old kitsune trick. A paste, made by mixing rice with the juice and seeds of certain plants. Shippou started working on it the moment you left this morning."

InuYasha must have been tired of twisting around to glare, because this time he didn't even bother. "You _knew_ about this, you old bat?"

Another chuckle. "I helped him gather all the plants he needed."

"WHAT?!" His head darted up and around so quickly that he winced, and Kagome and Miroku simply stared as the older woman shuffled to a stop beside the manager, her dark eyes twinkling with mirth. She was dressed as warmly as always, with thermal socks and house slippers and a shawl around her shoulders. Dangling from her gnarled fingers was a large plastic jug, filled with what looked like water.

"I was under the impression that Shippou had broken yet another item of importance and simply desired to fix it before anyone found out." She studied them in a manner very similar to Miroku, and then shook her head. "He informed me that it was his father's _extra sticky _formula."

InuYasha's eyes clamped almost as tight as his jaw. His eyebrows started to twitch in annoyance, and the fingers of his free hand cracked a bit as they curled, then lifted to scratch at his forehead. Sucking in a sharp, panicked breath, Kagome wrapped her fingers around his wrist, stopping it before it came into contact with his skin. His eyes popped open and he glared at her. She gave a tiny moue of impatience and tossed a meaningful glance at his hand, still coated with Shippou's 'extra sticky' formula. His eyes followed hers, and his expression quickly morphed from angry to shocked…and then to faint embarrassment as it dawned on him what he _could_ have done.

Miroku, fortunately for InuYasha, missed the entire exchange because he was climbing to his feet to address Kaede. "Indeed?" He sounded intrigued. "His father developed that recipe? It's no wonder they can't get loose."

Trying to play off his lapse in judgment, InuYasha rolled his eyes and huffed. That struck her as funny and her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she swallowed a giggle. He renewed his glare, which only prompted a tiny grin to form on her mouth. His eyes narrowed even further, sending her a clear "It's not funny" message. She agreed, conceded the point with a subtle, negative shake of her head.

Her grin widened.

He frowned at her, his eyes probing her grin in an odd, questioning manner. Then, to her amazement, she could swear she caught an answering--grudging--smile flicker through his gaze.

"Shippou's father made that, huh…? Kaede…." Now Miroku sounded suspiciously thoughtful. "I don't suppose you know the _exact_ process that Shippou used to get this particular consistency, do you?"

His attention snapped away from her as if it had never been, and he turned (at an angle that made her uncomfortably aware of just how awkward their position was) to snarl at the two behind them. "Hey! You greedy bastard…. Stop worrying about the brat's old man and get us the hell _out_ of this!"

"Yes but…" Miroku cast a doubtful look over the floor. "If we try to help, we'll get stuck. What can we do but let you two work yourselves free?" He shrugged. "I mean, it may take a while, but I'm sure that eventually, with InuYasha's strength, you'll be able to do it."

"Or we could give them something to neutralize the adhesive quality in the paste." The old woman sounded even more amused as she shuffled forward, her fingers starting to twist the cap of the jug in her hand. "I had a feeling this might come in handy after your shouting sent Shippou running in the middle of separating my herbs."

InuYasha entire body tensed with outrage. "You had something like that this whole time and you just fucking _stood_ _there_?!"

Kaede must have really been enjoying herself. She hummed, soft and amused. "Well, you both look so comfortable; I assumed you weren't particularly eager to be free of each other."

Kagome's color, which had died down to a dull pink, flared once again as InuYasha forced out a retort between gritted teeth. "Listen, you old bitch--" The cap finally came loose, and he broke off, a strange look crossing his face. His nose twitched. "What…." His eyes snapped to the jug, filled with pure dread. "No."

"Plus, I didn't think _you_ would appreciate it, InuYasha." Kaede turned and handed the jug to Miroku. "Pour this over them. It should relax the mixture's hold."

Miroku held the small opening of the jug up to his nose, then immediately jerked it away, his expression going momentarily sour. He looked askance at her. "Pour _this_ over them? Ah…." His gaze skidded over InuYasha, who looked revolted. Murderous golden eyes bored into him, promising severe pain should he decide to follow Kaede's suggestion. "Why _me_?"

"Don't even _think_ about pouring that shit all over me!"

Kaede gave the hanyou a pointed stare, not at all intimidated by his growl. "It is the only way I know of to release you both quickly, InuYasha. Unless you wish to continue on as you have been, I suggest you endure it."

InuYasha turned his glare on her, speechless and aghast. Kagome was just confused. What in the world was in that jug?

Miroku expression remained uneasy, but he shrugged and added his two cents. "Of course, if you actually _want_ to stay like that for a while longer, we could always just leave and let you two do…whatever it is you want to do."

InuYasha visibly gritted his teeth. His gaze darted around the room before finally settling on her from the corner of his eyes, and he sighed heavily. Then he pulled his wrist from her grip. "The runt is dead," he muttered flatly, his voice edged with finality. He pressed his hand--the back of it--to his nose. "Just hurry the fuck up."

Kagome's frown was quite prominent by now, and she opened her mouth to inquire about the contents of the jug. But Miroku took InuYasha's words to heart, and immediately stepped right up to the edge of the goo, reaching out as far as his arm would stretch and shaking the clear liquid over and around them.

The first splash hit squarely in between them, coating their arms, soaking into their clothes, and dripping along skin--and Kagome figured out on her own why all the fuss. She wrinkled her nose as the biting, unpleasantly tart smell drifted up her nostrils and lingered there, making her want to sneeze.

_Vinegar._

She had to physically resist the urge to put her own hand to her nose--considering that it was now covered in the preservative, it wouldn't help anyway. Fumes from the acidic liquid rose to overwhelm the air. The urge to sneeze was quickly joined by the urge to cough as Miroku poured more, seeking to cover every place where bodies and goo touched.

A hard wince of sympathy settled over her features as she watched InuYasha. If _she_ was having such a hard time being doused with the strong-smelling stuff, how much harder must it be for him, whose sense of smell was ten times more sensitive?

He blinked a few times, his eyes narrowing in reaction to the strong smell. A soft, nearly inaudible rumble was vibrating through his chest. Really, he was starting to look…ill.

But his other hand was suddenly loose. He lifted it into the air, and they stared as the vinegar thinned the gunk considerably, its consistency going from thick, sticky pudding to something that reminded Kagome of cake batter. Darting a swift look at her, he gave his hand an experimental shake, and it slid off his skin easily, smoothing out to drip from the tips of his fingers and claws.

Realizing that everything in the area immediately surrounding them had reverted to the thinner, much more manageable state, they both started moving at the same time, scrambling away from each other as if they'd been burned. Kagome pushed herself up and off him, and InuYasha pulling his legs out from under her so fast he almost tripped her on his way to his feet. The stuff was more slippery now, but since they were no longer sticking to the floor, they were able to tiptoe their way through the mess and onto the more solid, cleaner part of the floorboards with very little trouble.

InuYasha was cursing soundly and stripping from his jacket before they'd even made it onto safe ground. "_Vinegar_! You've got to be fucking kidding me! _Dammit_!" He seemed to be ranting to the room in general, though he was glaring at Miroku--who had stepped back behind Kaede as soon as he'd seen they were free, and was prudently hiding the mostly-empty jug behind his back. "Do you have any idea how long it will take me to get rid of this stench?!" The jacket hit the floor, along with the fleece vest he'd been wearing underneath, leaving him in only his long-sleeved shirt and jeans--which were currently soaked through with vinegar. "I'm going to _kill_ that kid!"

He half-whirled, looking determined to do exactly that, only to stop, put a hand to his forehead and rub at his temples, a pained sneer ghosting across his face. "Shit, I have a headache."

Kagome bit her lip, concerned, and eyed him as she stripped off her own jacket and added it to the pile of vinegar-and-goop-soaked clothes he'd already started. The strong smell permeating the whole room must be starting to affect him; he sounded slightly confused, and his skin had actually started taking on a greenish tinge. She was a little surprised. He seemed so strong; she hadn't expected him to have such a simple vulnerability.

_He's probably had enough of this room for the moment._ It would really be bad if he passed out in here. Getting him cleaned up would be a lot more difficult if he couldn't help. Of course, if she just told him to leave, he'd probably bite her head off.

"Well, you can't kill Shippou," she stated crisply. That drew everyone's attention to her, but she'd already turned to take in the spreading, untidy muck that covered most of the reception area floor. If they didn't get it cleaned up soon, it would be everywhere.

Behind her, InuYasha snorted, half-angry, half-disbelieving. "You're not really going to defend him! That brat--"

"You can't kill him until he helps clean up this mess he made," she interrupted, rolling her eyes at him over her shoulder.

He gave her a blank look. "Oh."

When he didn't seem to have anything else to say, she rolled her eyes again. "Can you find him?"

Disgust crossed his features. "I can't find anything until I get rid of this _smell_."

She only nodded, having already expected the answer, and started pulling up her sleeves, noting--with no small amount of satisfaction--that _her_ hands were clean, save for a thin coat of drying vinegar. "Okay, then. You go take a bath. Miroku, you go find Shippou. I'll go get the buckets and start cleaning _this_ up." She put her hands on her hips and glared a challenge at the mess, while everyone just continued to stare at her. When no one moved, she looked up at Kaede. "Where did all the guests go? I would have thought the yelling would have brought everyone over here."

Kaede lifted her brows. "At lunch, Shippou suggested everyone take a walk out to the gorges to see if they could find the 'legendary waterfall that grants wishes'."

Miroku looked startled. "What legendary waterfall? I thought I knew all the legends in the area."

She gave him a serene smile. "I believe you do."

"Ah."

"Keh! The rat had this fucking planned for a while, baba." InuYasha didn't sound pleased, but his growl lacked his usual luster and passion. His lip curled, and his face had a faintly tormented cast as he stared at the floor. "You knew and you just let us walk into it."

Kagome didn't like the way he was acting. She waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind, never mind. You can deal with it later." She pointed at InuYasha, hiding her worry behind a busy demeanor. "You go take that bath. You'll just make more work if you pass out in here."

He drew himself up indignantly, irritation renewing the color in his eyes. "Hey! I'm not--"

"And while you're at it, leave your clothes in the hallway outside your room. I'll collect them when I do the laundry." She turned away before he could object again, frowning at the now watery substance in the middle of the floor. "What a mess. And we still have to worry about dinner for the guests." Her shoulders slumped for a moment under the mental weight of so much added work, and then straightened as she nodded to herself. "All right. First things first."

She turned again and blinked at InuYasha, who still stood in the hallway behind the stairs, staring at her. "What are you still doing here?" A pointed look. "Or are you volunteering to stay and help clean this up?"

That got him moving.

"Keh!" His face took on that revolted look again, and he whirled on his heel and stalked down the hallway. "You won't get me near that room again for the next godsdamned year!" He muttered something unintelligible, then, "What the hell was that kid thinking?"

"Don't forget to leave out your clothes!"

He snorted. "Tch! You can burn them for all I care!"

"And remember, if you find Shippou, he has to help clean first!"

Almost to the end of the hallway, he stopped and his ears twitched for just a moment. Then he looked at her over his shoulder, the tiniest of smiles lifting the corners of his mouth. "Heh. Don't worry. I'm not gonna kill the brat. Just make him miserable as hell." He may or may not have caught her involuntary smile because he was turning down another hallway almost before he was done speaking.

Kagome turned to the two by the stairs, both of whom were watching with avid expressions. She shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, then shrugged off the feeling, deciding she had too much to do to speculate about it. "Miroku, go find Shippou, please. I'm going to get the buckets. If we're lucky, we can get everything washed and aired out before the guests get back."

And without waiting for a reply, she darted off at a brisk walk, taking a different route from InuYasha, heading for the kitchen and muttering to herself as she went. "Just what in the world _was_ Shippou thinking, I wonder?"

* * *

Into the sour-smelling silence of the room after the Sachi's owner and housekeeper departed, Miroku's throat cleared itself loudly. "Did you…. Notice what I noticed?"

Expression still serene, Kaede nodded. "Quite remarkable. They would barely look at each other this morning."

Miroku allowed his gaze to drift over the remainder of Shippou's surprise, then back to Kaede. "Out of curiosity, Kaede, what _was_ Shippou thinking? This is an odd thing to do, even for him. What did he hope to accomplish by _sticking_ them to one another?"

Kaede chuckled again--her third such reaction inside of an hour, and something Miroku was sure he'd never heard before so many times in a row. She was usually so grave. "He was talking earlier about how often his parents would kiss in front of him. He seemed quite excited about it."

"A kiss?" Miroku gave her a doubtful look. "Surely he can't have understood that much…."

The older woman shook her head. "No, nothing quite so complicated. I believe he thinks that if InuYasha kisses Kagome, then it is only natural that he will keep her with him afterwards."

"And he thought he could get them to kiss if he _stuck them together_?"

That prompted yet another chuckle. Kaede seemed quite amused today. "He _is_ a kitsune, after all. They are, by nature, troublesome. He will be very disappointed to find it backfired on him."

There was a thoughtful pause, and then it was Miroku's turn to chuckle. "Oh, I don't know about that. You didn't see what I did a few minutes ago. So simple a solution, and yet so close to the truth." He sighed. "It's been a long time, Kaede--a very long time--since I've seen him like this."

Kaede agreed, silently.

"She got him to take the hat off in Sounkyo."

She turned to him then, black eyes gleaming with surprise. "Indeed? No problems resulted, I assume?"

He shook his head. "No. It's just a precaution anyway. Still…." He rubbed a hand over his face, then turned around in a semi-circle, studying the different avenues of escape from the reception area. "Which way did Shippou run off in?"

She waved a gnarled hand. "Out into the forest. But I don't believe he would have gone very far away. I've never met a fox who didn't like to watch his plans play out."

"Which means he's probably within sight--or, considering the circumstances, within hearing," Miroku agreed, turning to pick his way over to the open front door. "Very well, I'm off to drag him out for his punishment."

"You'll never get him out if you tell him that."

"No. I thought I'd coax him out by telling him how successful he actually was." He hesitated in the doorway to pull on a random pair of boots, absently scanning the snowy, tree-laden landscape surrounding the Sachi. "And, I thought, perhaps, that I could offer a few pointers. He has the right idea, he's just lacking in technique."

Kaede gave him a keen look, but seemed unsurprised by the declaration. "Changed your mind about the girl, lord monk?"

He only sighed again, reaching up a hand to tug musingly at the earring in his ear. "Interesting, isn't it? How children can sometimes see things far more clearly and far more quickly than adults?" The Sachi's manager closed the front door behind him as he left, leaving the older housekeeper alone with her thoughts.

* * *

They spent their first day exploring the town, as they always did. Familiarizing herself with the layout and quirks of new places was automatic to her--a habit that had never failed to serve her well in all the years she'd been traveling. By the time the sun had started to drop below the mountains, darkening the streets, both she and her companion were tired and ready for a rest. Fortunately, she'd known where they were going before they even got on the train in Sapporo earlier that morning.

The hotel was one of the largest--but not _the_ largest--ones in Sounkyo, and sat at the very edge of the village town, providing most of its guests with a very impressive view of the rough, forested terrain of the surrounding mountains. It had a heavy western influence in its construction, with several stories, lavish suites, and the obligatory indoor/outdoor hot springs. The lobby was tastefully decorated with carpeting and furniture, and proudly hung with pictures that showed off the best Sounkyo had to offer during its various seasons.

All this she noted almost absently as she stepped inside from the dropping temperatures outside, carrying case in one hand, duffle bag over her shoulder, and walked over to the reception desk.

Only two young women were in sight, both dressed in the dark blue uniform skirt and suit-top that represented the hotel. As she approached, one of the two--younger-looking with short, boyishly cut hair--smiled pleasantly in greeting. "Good evening. May I assist you in any way?"

She felt her own mouth stretch in a wan imitation of a smile. "I would like to check in, please."

The bright smile never wavered as computer keys began making faint clicking sounds. "Of course. May I ask how long you will be staying with us?"

With a weary sigh, she set the large case carefully on the floor and reached back to unzip and rummage around in her duffle. "My companion and I will be staying indefinitely."

The other woman's focus hadn't moved from the computer. "And method of payment?" Then the typing stopped and she took a moment of to scan the lobby--which was empty save for the three at the reception desk. "Companion?" The woman hadn't lost her smile, though now she sounded politely confused.

Still fumbling in the depths of her duffle, she reached down and picked up the case from the floor. In answer to the second question, she set it on the counter between them. From behind the wire metal of the door, slanted red eyes blinked innocently at the receptionist from a narrow, yellow-furred face. She blinked back, but still managed to retain her smile. "A…cat?"

"Mmm." She nodded absently, not looking up as she spoke. "Usually I don't keep her locked up in that horrible thing, but they wouldn't let us on the train unless she was caged." The memory still irked her, so she pressed her lips together to keep from taking it out on the poor, hapless woman in front of her. She finally found what she was looking for, and her hand emerged from her bag holding her wallet.

"I'm sorry, but this hotel doesn't allow pets to stay in the rooms."

She flipped open the slim leather case and pulled out a card, not phased in the least by the response. "Kirara is a special case. I never go anywhere without her. I will be most happy to pay whatever added charges will result from her stay in my room." She slid the card, facedown along the cool, polished wood of the countertop. "And I'll be paying with this."

The receptionist's smile had grown a bit brittle, but remained intact. Automatically, her fingers plucked the card off the desk and she glanced over it. "I'm afraid that we have a very strict policy against--" She froze, her eyes gluing to the small silver letters engraved onto the golden background. For a moment, she seemed speechless. Then she darted a sharp look at the other woman standing at the end of the long desk, paying them no mind as she typed on a different computer. She gave a quick bow. "Excuse me for one moment, please."

She just nodded and watched as the woman walked over to her co-worker and engaged in a near silent, furious debate over the card she'd given them. She sighed and glanced down at the hated cage. "Why do we always have to go through this?"

Red eyes blinked at her, but the only real response she got was a soft, high-pitched "Mew," and a rather bored-looking yawn.

The receptionist returned, her manner suddenly ultra-polite and deferential. "I am so sorry about the delay, Miss Morioka. Of course, both you and your pet are welcome here for as long as you wish to stay." Her fingers began a brisk, loud clicking on the computer beside her as she talked. "Please inform us of any wishes or preferences you have, and we will be sure to take care of them for you right away."

Of course. It was always the same. She just barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I do have one request. I would like to stay in suite one-ninety-three, please."

The receptionist looked only slightly startled by the odd request. "Are you sure? It's not one of our best suites. It only has three rooms. If you're looking for luxury, I can recommend far more--"

"Just those rooms, please." She really didn't feel like being coddled right now.

The receptionist looked properly chastised. "My apologies. Of course--I'll have suite one-ninety-three set up for you right away."

She shook her head. "Is it currently empty?"

"Well…" A few more clicks on the computer. "Yes. But it's only just been vacated and housekeeping isn't scheduled in until tomorrow."

She heaved another sigh. "Then just give me the key. You can clean it tomorrow." It felt like forever since she woke up this morning, and even though it was barely dark outside, she desperately wanted a bed.

The woman got the message and shut up, her slim fingers moving expertly as she checked her in. Finally, she turned and did some shuffling at the counter behind her, then returned with a brilliant, self-effacing smile. Making her way out from behind the desk, she gave a deep bow and presented her with two room key-cards and some papers. The golden and silver card lay reverently on top. "If you will follow me, I will show you to your rooms."

She shook her head again. "Don't bother. Just point me in the right direction, and I can find it myself."

The woman hesitated, then simply bowed her head again. "Of course, Miss Morioka." She pointed down a hallway off to their left. "Go to the end of the hallway and follow the numbers. Your suite is right at the back, and has an excellent, unimpeded view of Daisetsuzan National Park. We also have available--"

She waved off the amenities speech. "Never mind. The directions are enough." Remembering to be polite, she bowed to the woman. "Thank you for your help."

Another bow. "Of course. And if you have any needs during your stay, please don't hesitate to ask. Any one of our staff will be at your disposal at any and all times while you are with us."

She nodded, grabbing the case off the countertop and turning away without further comment. The room took less than five minutes to find. She let herself right in, then stood just inside the door, surveying the suite with a critical eye.

It was decently large, as far as hotel rooms in Japan went. There were three rooms. An open, carpeted sitting room, complete with couch, coffee table, and television set, and what looked to be a nice balcony that opened up almost directly onto the forest. The rooms connecting on either side appeared to be bedrooms, and the small door off to the right of the door probably held the toilet. More than enough for her and Kirara, and plenty of space to examine thoroughly before she did anything else.

First things first, though.

She allowed the heavy duffle to drop to the floor. Massaging at the spot where the strap had rubbed her shoulder raw, she walked into the middle of the room, and set the traveling case on the table before opening it. The small cat leaped out immediately, mewling with indignation, and licking at various spots on her yellow and brown fur. Her tails--two of them, striped dark brown at their tips, and which, along with her red eyes, marked her as a youkai cat rather than an ordinary one--curled and stretched around her body, restless after the long confinement.

She gave another faint smile at her companion as she reached down to nuzzle at the tiny chin. "I'm sorry, Kirara. It was either that or leave you home." The smile faltered. "And I really need you right now."

Another mew and the tiny body had leapt gracefully from the low table to her normal place in her arms. In sudden need of comfort, she cuddled her close and stood. The bedroom to the right had obviously been used recently, as the bedcovers were rumpled and pillows and other various items thrown about the small room. The room to the left, thankfully, didn't look like it had held a guest of late. Though it was slightly stuffy, the covers on the bed were neat, and the small table and chair over by the window seemed untouched.

She chose the left bedroom.

Gathering her things, she set them all near the bed and allowed her weary body to sit, sinking into the comfortable mattress. She felt herself relax as she quietly looked over the room. She would explore more thoroughly later, she decided. Her bath would come first, then her bed. The rest of it could wait until morning. All of it could just wait. She had all the time in the world, because she was taking all the time in the world. She'd decided _that_ before she'd even left.

Her eyes fell on the respectably sized mirror in the wall opposite the bed, and she studied herself as she sat there.

She looked tired. Lines of weariness bracketed her eyes and mouth, making her seem older than she actually was. Her shoulders had a slump to them that she hadn't seen in a long time, and her hair, she was dismayed to note, was an absolute mess, flying in every direction and practically free from the loose ponytail she'd had it in all day.

She sniffed and swallowed around the sudden, very painful lump in her throat. She hadn't realized just how close to tears she actually was. Her old defenses came to her rescue, helping her fight off the stinging in her eyes. She looked down at the warm, soft body curled up in her arms. Understanding red eyes stared back at her, and the dark brown sock of one paw reached up to bat at her chest.

She sighed, and hugged her close, burying her face in the silky yellow fur. "Oh, Kirara. What are we going to do?"

Another mew was her only response.

* * *

A/N: Ok, here it is--the third installment of what was originally supposed to be _all_ one chapter (Seriously, I really didn't think it was going to be this long.) Ah, well, I had fun with it. (Can you tell?)

Anyway, hope everything makes sense. Let me know if you find anything wrong, or confusing, or whatever. I try to answer all inquiries to the best of my abilities. (without, you know, giving away the secrets or anything.:P)

Hope you enjoy!

'Till next time, Cheers and Blessings,

Quill (who is currently very late for work O.O)


	10. Black Queen

* * *

**Chapter 9**

* * *

Kagome stepped into the kitchen from out on the porch, shivering and pulling the door firmly shut behind her. She cupped her freezing fingers over her mouth and puffed on them, having completed her most recent attempt at hanging the laundry outside. Ever since the snow had started, mean temperatures in the mountains had been getting colder by the day, and she was finding that the only time to hang the laundry effectively was mid-morning, so that everything dried before temperatures started dropping again around late afternoon. Not too long now, and she would have to resort to using the Sachi's imported dryer to make sure everything dried without freezing.

"Almost done, Shippou?" She called out cheerfully to the tiny body on the appliance side of the kitchen.

The response she got was little more than a scowl and a few unintelligible mumbles that, for some reason, reminded her of InuYasha.

The kitsune was scrubbing furiously at the floorboards with a suds-covered cloth, his puff of a tail sticking into the air and bouncing with each vigorous swipe. She noted where he was, noted the dirty water in the bucket behind him, and found herself impressed. What he lacked in reach he'd made up for in pure energy, and--despite the constant stream of grumbles falling from his mouth--had managed to cover most of that side of the floor in the time it had taken her to hang today's small load on the lines out back.

She grinned and stepped over to the countertop in the center of the room. "Everything is looking good. After you're done here, we can start on the hallway in front of the baths. For some reason, that part of the floor is always dirty."

A groan sounded from the kitsune and his arms stopped their determined swipes as his shoulders slumped. His head hung for a moment, then he pushed off all fours to sit on his heels and gave her a pathetic look. "But Kagome…. I've already spent all morning washing this half of the kitchen floor, and I still have to help Kaede with the dusting. And on top of all that, Miroku gave me another one of those stupid problems to solve. Can't I just be done for the day?"

She could feel the sympathy filter into her expression as she stared down at him. "Well…."

Sincere green eyes rounded and blinked at her. "Please?"

She bit her lip, considering his request. He _had_ been working really hard for the past few days.

It had been ridiculously easy to find the kitsune after the initial confusion of what had become known as "the glue incident". After all (as Miroku had pointed out after dragging him back into the Sachi by his tail) if one was going to hide as a tree, one should probably try to do it using something that was actually _native_ to the area in which one was hiding. And, unfortunately for Shippou, _palm trees_ were not native to the area.

As for his punishment….

The immediate consequences had been several large, painful lumps on his head courtesy of the Sachi's infuriated owner. (It was a generally agreed upon fact that hiding had been the wisest thing the little kitsune had done, because had InuYasha gotten hold of him _before_ the bath that muted most of the vinegar smell from his body, the lumps wouldn't have been the only physical reprimand being handed out that day.) Following some deliberation among the adults, Shippou had then been given a choice: he could either help Kagome with the floors every day for as long as it took him to appreciate the extraordinary amount of work that went into keeping a place as large as the Sachi clean, _or_….

He could spend exactly one week helping InuYasha with his tasks around the Sachi.

After one glance at the thoroughly irate hanyou, Shippou had chosen Kagome.

Miroku, for his part as an uninjured and basically un-inconvenienced party to the whole mess, had decided that Shippou had entirely too much time on his hands, and had taken to giving him a problem of either math or logic to solve by the end of each day. So, for the past couple of days, poor Shippou had been dashing about the Sachi's halls--still running his previously imposed duties for Kaede, scrubbing at the Sachi's floors, and avoiding, if at all possible, the Sachi's owner. And all the while, a constant mumbling accompanied him as he alternated between figuring and complaining under his breath.

The part that impressed Kagome the most about all this was that he always managed to solve the problem. He'd said his father was a genius, but she hadn't realized how smart Shippou really was until only recently.

Now, staring at the small kitsune whose entire body had suddenly devoted itself to begging for her mercy, she sighed. "I suppose I can do it later." Shippou's wretched expression morphed into a delighted smile, and she had to struggle not to smile in return. "But you still have to finish drying," she added in the sternest voice she could muster. "I have to start lunch soon."

He nodded eagerly.

There was a sharp rap of knuckles on wood, and they both looked over as Miroku came strolling through the open doors on the dining room side of the kitchen. He looked like he was on his way out, dressed in a warm jacket and carrying his shoes in his left hand. His expression was at its usual carefree best even as his violet gaze scanned over the room and its occupants. "So it's the kitchen floor today, is it? I see Kagome's been keeping you busy, Shippou."

Shippou's reply was another scowl and incoherent gripe. Kagome grinned again. "Shippou's been working very hard." When the only thing her comment produced was another round of grumbles, she shared an amused glance with Miroku. "Did you need something, Miroku?"

Miroku smiled and held up the shoes. "Actually, I was just hoping for a snack before I go back into Sounkyo. Long solitary drives can be so depressing on an empty stomach."

Faint surprise lifted her eyebrows. "You're going back into Sounkyo? But didn't we just get back?"

The smile on his lips twisted wryly. "Yes, well, we seem to have developed an unexpected food supply problem." His dark, mostly amused gaze fixed on Shippou, who had frozen mid-scrub. "Most of the rice we bought last time ended up soaked in vinegar and mixed up with glue."

The subtle, taunting reprimand was obvious, and a startled shiver visibly shook Shippou's tail. The little kitsune hesitated, peeked up at him impudently, then went back to scrubbing, grousing to himself quietly--but not so quietly that they couldn't hear every word he said. "Why is _he_ complaining? It's just another excuse to go into town without InuYasha yelling at him for it." He paused, an offhand snort catching in his throat. "He'll be in a better mood than anyone else around here when he gets back."

Kagome's eyes rounded in shock. _He can't possibly know what…._

Miroku's pleasant expression didn't even twitch. "You may be right, my little friend." His tone was a study in casualness. "At any rate--was that an offer of assistance I heard coming from our kindhearted Kagome just now, Shippou? You should be more careful--it would be a bad thing if InuYasha heard, wouldn't it?"

The blithe reminder caused Kagome to flash a guilty face towards Shippou, who flinched in panic at the implied threat.

Shippou sat back onto his knees, immediately repentant for any and all statements that might have been offensive to the human. "It's just a small piece of the floor. Don't tell InuYasha, Miroku." His auburn head bobbed down in a desperate kow-tow. "_Please_."

Kagome gave the tiniest wince of sympathy. Miroku was right. If InuYasha heard anything about her small lapse in discipline, the poor kid would be in for worse than a few days of scrubbing floors. Unfortunately for Shippou, there had been one last condition set to the punishment he chose for himself.

"He doesn't get _any_ help," InuYasha had stipulated with a snarl. "None. You pick a floor and you make him clean the whole damn thing."

Both Kagome and Shippou, thinking that a bit too harsh, had started to protest.

InuYasha had cut them off with a hard glance. "If _you_ help him," he'd informed Kagome in his most inflexible tone, "then _I_ get him."

And that had been the end of _that_ particular discussion.

That was another reason the kitsune had been avoiding the hanyou for the past few days.

Miroku just responded to Shippou's plea with a genial smile. He tapped his shoes against his thigh and recited in a knowing voice, " 'A high school has a strange principal. On the first day, he has his students perform an odd opening day ceremony:

There are one thousand lockers and one thousand students in the school. The principal asks the first student to go to every locker and open it. Then he has the second student go to every second locker and close it. The third goes to every third locker and, if it is closed, he opens it, and if it is open, he closes it. The fourth student does this to every fourth locker, and so on. After the process is completed with the thousandth student, how many lockers are left open?'" He paused, then lifted his eyebrows inquiringly. "Well…. Have you figured out the answer yet?"

Shippou looked up with a disgusted snort. "No. I know it has something to do with the odd and even numbers, I just can't figure the exponents….Yet." His small features set determinedly, and he lopped the towel in his hand into the bucket, causing the water to slosh noisily. "But I will. I'll figure out your stupid puzzle."

Apparently satisfied, Miroku turned his attention to Kagome. "It appears I won't be able to get anything from in here for a while, so I'll just be going. Kaede already gave me her list--do you have anything to add, Kagome?"

"Eh?" She blinked at him. "Who--me?"

His eyebrows lifted again. "Of course. You've been doing most of the cooking and cleaning lately. Is there anything you need? It might be a while before any of us go back. You might want to tell me now."

Surprised by the question, she just blinked at him for a long moment. He'd said that so easily, so naturally; he'd included her as he would have any other member of the Sachi, and his expectant look told her he hadn't given it a second thought. Her eyes flitted over to Shippou, who had crossed both arms and legs, and set his brows in a frown of intense concentration. He was muttering something about perfect squares.

Neither of them seemed to think that there was anything remarkable about Miroku's question. It was all so normal. So everyday.

For the first time since she'd woken up in the storage room in the back, it truly registered--and all she could do was stand there (as Miroku looked on curiously and Shippou ignored her completely) absorbing her realization with a racing heart and mystified wonder.

To the residents of the Sachi, she was more than simply a helpful, extended guest--she was one of them. They were more than just her benefactors. They were her friends. They'd accepted her, a stranger with no past and no prospects, and treated her like one of their own from almost the very beginning. She was secure with them; she was safe. Safe from _what_, she didn't know--and quite honestly, she didn't want to find out. All that mattered was that she was safe.

She'd found a _place_ here. A _life_. She actually _belonged_.

And she hadn't even noticed it until just now.

__

It might be a while before any of us go back. You might want to tell me now.

Unbidden, a wide, pleased smile blossomed across her face as she focused on the man in front of her. She shook her head. "Thank you, but it's fine. There's nothing I can think of." Almost imperceptibly, her smile widened. "I have everything I need right now."

The warmth and brightness of her smile surprised him--she could see it in the way he eyed her--but he just shrugged. "Very well. If you're sure, I'll just be going." He gave her an offhand wave, and headed for the sliding door she'd just come in. "I don't have that much to do, so I should be back in time for dinner."

"Yeah, that's assuming he doesn't get distracted by any girls while he's there." Shippou's deep concentration didn't waver at all as he tossed the comment carelessly at the manager's retreating back.

Miroku's easy gait across the kitchen didn't falter even once as he responded immediately. "Oh? Solved that problem already, Shippou? I'm sure I could find you another one to do before dinner."

That shut the kitsune up, with a start and an audible gulp on his part.

Kagome rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the amused smile that played over her lips. Miroku slid open the door, allowing a cold breeze to skim through the mostly warm kitchen, and shrugged a little deeper into his jacket before he bent over to slip on his shoes.

Kagome turned to the still-slightly-panicked-looking Shippou and crossed her arms. "Cheer up, Shippou. All you have left is the drying."

Shippou brightened a little, nodded, then glanced around. "Umm….Kagome? I don't have any drying towels."

She blinked, then followed his glance around the room. "You don't? I was sure I brought you some…." She sighed, then shrugged, and gave him an affectionate look. "Oh well. I'll go get you some more, all right?"

Shippou nodded, and Kagome turned to leave. She gave a cheerful wave to the Sachi's manager, who still stood out on the porch, regarding them with speculation through the open door. "Come back safe, Miroku."

His eyes followed her as she turned to walk out of the kitchen. Just as she reached the doorway, his voice called out in an off-hand manner. "Ah, Kagome? Would you mind doing me a favor?"

She paused, then pivoted to look at him inquiringly. He was looking…. Suspiciously bright and innocent. She blinked at him. "What is it?"

He smiled. "InuYasha is in the men's bath right now. He's fixing a leak." His smile widened. "Would you mind telling him I took the truck, and that I expect to be back by dinner? You know how he is--I'll never hear the end of it if I don't let him know I'm leaving."

Her shoulders loosened as her suspicion dropped away with the simple request. She smiled. "Of course. I'll make sure he knows." With a lighthearted wave and another contented smile, she disappeared down the hallway.

His own smile going from innocent to self-satisfied, Miroku turned to Shippou, who was staring at the vacated hallway with wide eyes, and pulled a set of keys from his jacket pocket. With a jangle, he gestured after their departed housekeeper. "And _that_, my little friend, is what is called the fine art of subtlety."

Shippou turned a skeptical expression on the open sliding door, then took a leaping hop onto the countertop. Pale green eyes narrowed doubtfully on the manager lingering on the porch just outside the kitchen. "That's _it_? All she's gonna do is go tell him you're gone. What'll _that_ do?"

"Ah." Miroku pleased expression didn't waver. "But it's not what she'll tell him that's important, you see. It's where they'll _be_ that matters." He chuckled to himself. "The boiler is acting up. There's steam everywhere--it's turned the men's bath into a virtual sauna. And with the way he's been acting recently, a little _heat_ is all those two need."

On the countertop, Shippou's features grew even more skeptical. He plopped down onto the smooth surface of the counter, crossed his arms, and shot the human a half-annoyed, half-disbelieving look. "_So_? You think he's going to kiss her because it's _hot_?"

Miroku lost his smile to a moment of genuine surprise. His dark violet eyes widened as he stared at the kitsune, utterly speechless. Then he shook his head, his hand reaching up to scratch underneath the ponytail that restrained his hair.

He gave a rueful laugh. "Sometimes I forget how young you are." He shook his head again and sighed, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe as he turned his attention back on the youngster, his manner instructional. "Remember what I told you about the difference between finesse and recklessness, Shippou. The only reason the last stunt you pulled had any effect at all was because it surprised everyone. To get the desired results, you have to be more discreet."

Shippou frowned, still unsure. "Isn't this a little _too_ discreet? InuYasha and Kagome talk to each other every day. How does _this_ help change anything?"

That comment prompted the faint curve to return to Miroku's mouth. "Think about how stubborn InuYasha is. The more normal something is, the less he'll notice it--and the less he notices, the more it will get under his skin. The goal is to wear him down." The smile widened. "Have a little faith in me, Shippou. I've known InuYasha a lot longer than you." He turned and started walking away, heading around the building for the vehicle parked in the front. "Remember. Think _finesse_."

Shippou stared after him for a minute. Then, with a shiver, he hopped off the countertop and walked over to slide the door shut, cutting off the cold. He turned and surveyed the empty kitchen, a tiny, thoughtful finger tapping against his chin.

_Think finesse, huh?_

* * *

Her revelation in the kitchen had left her so cheerful, that she didn't even notice the swearing until she was literally right in front of the baths, and the gruff curses finally penetrated the silly little song she'd been humming to herself as she made her way through the Sachi's hallways.

Her feet faltered, and she slowed to a stop just outside the entrances to the Sachi's baths. They were right next to each other in the middle of the same long corridor. Gender-specific signs hung above either entrance, directing guests to the appropriate rooms. Colored curtains--red for the women, blue for the men--hung in place of the doors, each leading off into their section of the large room beyond; and swearing--muffled but varying in both ferocity and volume--filtered through the walls.

Kagome bit her lip, hesitating. Oh, InuYasha was in there, all right.

In fact…. The Sachi's owner and resident handyman currently sounded…. Extremely agitated.

The Sachi's baths were located in the very center of the inn, and were accessible from all three wings, making them one of the easiest places to find. During her first tour here, Miroku had informed her that the baths had originally been one large room designed around a naturally occurring volcanic hot spring. The first owner had built it for his wife in the hopes that it would help her failing health; sadly, it'd had little effect.

After the Sachi was converted into an inn, various owners had divided the room, first by separating it into halves with a wall to create separate baths for men and women; and later, dividing it into quarters after someone decided an outdoor bath was needed as well. A modern indoor bath had been added, and the walls around the hot spring had been redesigned so that both sides had access to both an indoor bath and an outdoor hot spring.

At the moment, the men's entrance had a hand-scribbled out-of-order sign hanging across the top of it. As Kagome contemplated the opening, she found herself reluctant to simply push past the curtain, suddenly uneasy with the prospect of barging into the men's bath even if she _was_ on an errand for the inn's manager. She sighed and glanced around the deserted hallway, as if seeking an answer from the Sachi itself--and finally noticed the second sign that had decided to appear on the wall beside the entrance.

Carved in simple, easy-to-read characters on a pale wooden background were the words:

'Danger! Exposure to bath fumes may cause dizziness or even death. Do not enter.'

Kagome blinked, then smothered a laugh. Fumes? _Oh, Shippou. Don't you think that's a little much? I'm sure the guests will see the out-of-order sign just fine._ Then she frowned. _Wait. He's been busy cleaning all morning. When did he have time to…._

Another vicious curse, followed by a loud clang, echoed hollowly from behind the curtain and she jumped, then cast a worried glance at the heavy linen curtain. _Maybe I should go get Shippou his towels first_….

Then she sighed. This would only take a minute. She would just pop in, make sure he was aware that Miroku had gone into town, and leave. She glanced up at the sign declaring this side the men's bath and bit her lip.

Leave quickly.

Hesitantly, she reached out and knocked on the wooden frame of the doorway. The only response she got was another loud, metallic clang, a rather clunky-sounding bang, and another round of heated curses. This time she couldn't prevent the roll of her eyes. _Honestly…. People can hear you._ With a resigned sigh, she pushed open the curtain and made her way inside, praying that all the guests had heeded the signs.

She made her way past the small changing area, where the wooden cubby holes designed to hold bather's clothes were all empty (an encouraging sign) and stepped with bare feet into the much larger tiled bathing area… And halted in surprise.

It was _hot._

And not just hot in the normal, it's-a-bath kind of way. It was _swelteringly_ hot. A soft, thin hissing could be heard somewhere in the background, and steam was everywhere--thin, vaporous clouds of moisture drifting through the air. The humidity in the room felt dense and heavy, coating her skin with a fine film, making her instantly damp and sticky beneath the thick wool of her sweater. Unconsciously, her fingers tugged at the sleeves along her wrists as the material itched and rapidly went from comfortably warm to smothering.

She drew a deep breath, noting the extreme difference in even the consistency of the air as warmth rushed down her throat and into her lungs, filling her belly with swirling heat. The temperature jump was enormous.

Pushing the air out of her lungs just as quickly, Kagome pushed her fingers through the strays and loose bangs that were escaping her braid, smoothing the damp strands away from her face. After engaging in a quick mental debate, she reached down and tugged the sweater over her head before wrapping the garment around her hips. She was already starting to sweat--she would pass out if she stayed in here for too long bundled up like that. She would have to wait until she was cooler to re-don the sweater.

_How long has InuYasha been_ **_in_** _here?_

Pulling up the sleeves of her thin shirt underneath, she made a quick scan of the room, looking for her abruptly, and mysteriously silent employer. She hadn't heard a sound from him since she stepped past the curtain.

The men's bath, like the women's bath, had eight washing stations, with four appropriately spaced along either wall as one walked into the bathing area. Stools and buckets were stacked neatly in corner off to her left, while the bath was at the back of the room. The swimming-pool sized structure took up most of the floor, and was portioned off from the women's side by the wall to her right. Around the bath, the tile formed a narrow walk-space that led to a sliding door in the back wall; beyond that door was the fenced-in hot spring portion of the bath.

_There he is!_

She started for the back corner of the room.

He was laying flat on his back, on that narrow section of tile, one jean-clad knee drawn up on one bare foot. His head, arms, shoulders, and the upper part of his torso were all half-hidden in a large section of the wall where the tiles that had been removed. With his body at an angle, he appeared to have only just enough room to stretch out, and was completely blocking the way around the bath.

He didn't appear to be moving.

_InuYasha?_ Blinking, her vision slightly hazy through the mist, Kagome frowned. Had the heat gotten to him? He hadn't made a sound since she stepped inside. Had he passed out with no one here to help him? She rushed forward anxiously, darting around the larger pool without thinking, oblivious to the faint panic in her voice. "InuYasha!"

She didn't notice the surprised twitch that ran through his body when she called out his name.

His hands wrapped over the edges of the opening, and he pushed himself out of the wall to sit upright, ears twitching, expression alarmed as his eyes darted around the room. An aggressive snarl curled his lip up, and he sounded tense and disconcerted when he addressed her. "Kagome?! What's wrong?!"

_Oops_._ He's_….

She skidded to a halt just beyond where his bare foot almost nudged the concrete lip of the bath--realizing only belatedly that he was obviously not in need of help.

_He's_….

Her breath clogged in her throat.

Finding nothing amiss, the dark gold of his eyes narrowed up at her, half-perplexed at the urgency in her voice when she'd called his name, half-annoyed that she had actually worried him. "What's going on? What do _you_ want?"

She just stared.

_He's…not wearing a shirt._

He'd been wearing a shirt this morning. She knew he'd been wearing a shirt this morning. He'd been fully dressed when he'd come in and wolfed down the breakfast she'd prepared before heading out again, mumbling something about the tiles on the roof--obviously, the problem in the bath had distracted him again. ( She should have figured. It seemed to be a daily occurrence around here, anyway.) He must have discarded his shirt because of the high temperatures in the bath, though, because all he was wearing _now_ was a pair of old, threadbare work jeans.

That was it. She was seeing more of him than she'd ever imagined seeing.

_Oh… My…._

Trim, compact, and well defined, he had the body of a martial artist: it was nothing but tight, smooth skin and sleek, layered muscle. _A fighter's body_, she thought vaguely. And from the way he was sitting--arms braced against the wall, knees drawn up and ready to spring to his feet at any moment--he was obviously tensed and ready for a battle. The heat and humidity had him sweating, and moisture had long since formed a heavy film over his skin; even his hair was damp, pulled back from his face in a loose ponytail. A few rebellious, scattered strands of silver clung to his neck and shoulders, while the rest of it fell out of sight behind his back.

Her teeth dug into the inside of her cheek. She was suddenly feeling all…flushed and tingly everywhere, and her stomach was doing that thrilling little flip-flop thing again. Non-stop this time.

_Well…. At least he's ok_….

If a bit irritated. "Hey, Kagome!" His apprehensive frown had tightened into a scowl, and his voice was back to its usual crankiness. "What the hell are you doing in the men's bath?!"

She blinked at him, then drew a sharp breath as she remembered why she was here. She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks, and found herself glad that he wouldn't be able to tell just from looking at her. Feeling like an idiot, she glanced down at her feet. Absently, her fingers began plucking at her shirt, tugging it away from her chest as she tried to produce some kind of reprieve from the excessive heat. "Umm…. Miroku wanted me to tell you that he was taking the truck into Sounkyo."

He didn't say anything for a long minute. When she finally looked up, she found him staring with a look of confused disbelief, his gaze fixed on the motion of her hand. Then he blinked and jerked his eyes up, glancing at her face. The moment her eyes connected with his, he blinked again, then shook his head as if he was shaking off a trance. "That's _it_?"

She nodded, and his shoulders slumped and his body visibly relaxed. He sighed, then reached up a forearm to swipe at his brow. "_Shit_. Don't _do_ that." He rested the arm on his knee and sent her a vaguely disgusted look. "Why the hell did you come running in here like that? I though something was wrong, damn it."

She sighed as well, unconsciously mimicking his movements as her palm smoothed across her own forehead, pushing back at more dark strands of hair. She hadn't made her braid tight enough today; it was all falling out. "I was worried because you weren't moving."

"Worried?" He gave her an affronted look and a snort. "Don't be stupid. I'm not about to let a little heat beat me." He rolled his eyes, and indicated behind him at the hole in the wall and the exposed pipes and fixtures. "I wasn't _moving_ because I just found _another_ leak in this damn pipe."

Faintly embarrassed, she defended herself. "Hey! It's not _stupid_ to worry when you're by yourself in _this_. Not even _you_ are immune to this kind of heat for long." She paused, then mumbled. "Obviously."

"Obviously?" His scowl was back, black brows narrowed. "Feh. Of course, anyone would be hot in here, but it's not as if it'll hurt me. I'm fine." He shifted, his body tensing as he lay back and started to push himself back into the opening in the wall.

Her eyes widened, the tingle in her skin sliding down her throat and into her chest as the smooth, subtle ripple of muscle drew her attention. She sucked in a breath and jerked her gaze away, turning her head to study the way the steam rose off the water from the bath. "Yeah, and I'm sure just anyone would be wandering around with their shirt off, too." The half-breathed mutter escaped her lips before her brain thought better of it, and she immediately winced, praying he hadn't heard her.

No such luck. The scratchy sound of fabric sliding against the tiles went abruptly silent, and the only thing that made any sound in the cavernous room was the faint hissing of the leaking pipe in the wall behind them. Her head was still turned away, so she didn't see his fingers tighten almost convulsively around the edges of the wall.

Mortification had her chewing on her lip again. She didn't have to see him stop to know that he had. The suffocating heat of the room's atmosphere had already turned her face as red as it could be, but she could still feel the embarrassment gathering in her cheeks.

His voice made her jump.

"You're right." He paused, then she heard more scraping against the tile as he scooted all the way back into the gap. "It's fucking hot in here. You've told me what you wanted to tell me, so get the hell out before the heat gets to you and you cause me even more problems."

The brusqueness in his tone stung. Kagome's eyes widened and her head whipped back around, ready to snap out an infuriated retort when she heard another loud bang and a soft sizzling sound, followed by a very sharp, very explicit curse from a very pissed-off-sounding hanyou. She winced, then hesitated.

_Maybe I should just_….

Another soft sizzle was followed by another curse--this one snarled from very deep within in his throat and in a language she was _sure_ wasn't Japanese.

Another moment's indecision, and Kagome found herself slowly folding into a crouch by his side, wrapping her arms around her knees as she peered through the small opening. Some piping obstructed InuYasha's face, but his arms stretched up, fiddling with something higher up in the wall.

She frowned. Whatever he was trying to do, he didn't seem to be having very much success. "Umm…. What's wrong with it?"

He hesitated at her question. For a moment, she thought he was going to tell her to leave again. Then she heard a faint growl. "What do you _think_ is wrong with it?" He bit out snappishly. His voice sounded oddly muffled filtering through the walls. "One of the fucking pipes is leaking. I found it, but it's a hard pipe to get to without taking everything else out first. And these pipes all come from the boiler--that makes them all fucking _hot_."

Kagome felt her eyebrows lift as she realized what the small sizzling sounds were. _They're burning him_. She blinked at the part of him she could still see in astonishment. "You're not actually trying to get that pipe out while the boiler is still _on_ are you?!"

InuYasha paused, and she heard a grimace in his reply. "Of course not--I'm not _that_ stupid. I turned the boiler off first thing."

His body shifted again, twisting a bit in the narrow space until he could see her face. His golden eyes caught hers in a direct gaze, letting her see his aggravation. "The problem is that the damn boiler was overheating, so the pipes are even hotter than normal. The hell of it is, if the boiler _hadn't_ overheated, we wouldn't have even known about the leak until something burst."

For a brief moment of silence, they simply stared at each other.

Then he sighed, his brows flattening into a scowl. "If you're not going to leave, then at least do something useful." He jerked his chin off to the side, gesturing to the floor on the other side of him. "There's a little bottle in there. It's made of metal and covered in blue paint. Find it and hand it to me."

Taken aback, Kagome found her eyes following his gesture, focusing on a heretofore-unnoticed toolbox on the tile beside his body. It took her another second to realize that he'd requested her help. _Well… Sort of._ Even more surprised, and slightly pleased at the thought, she stood slowly, tugging at her shirt once again to keep it from sticking against her skin. Gingerly, carefully, she stepped over his body.

She could feel the darkened amber of his gaze follow her as she moved. It was as if his eyes themselves, with their peculiar color, held their own kind of intense heat--a heat completely separate from the warmth permeating every other inch of space in the bath. Conversely, it was a heat that had her fighting off a shiver of awareness. She crouched down again, carefully balanced on the balls of her feet, and started rummaging through the varied and oddly-shaped tools in the battered metal toolbox. Her movements were blind; her mind didn't want to focus on the task in front of her when she was so in tune to the gaze fixed _on_ her.

She was so distracted that she found what he wanted almost by accident, and ended up staring at it in her hand for several moments before she even realized what it was. It almost shocked her when he made an impatient sound and snatched the small metal bottle from her hand. She felt the briefest graze of claws across her fingertips, and then he was sliding backwards, wedging himself back in between the pipes in the wall.

He reached up through the maze of piping, drawing her gaze to him once again. "What I want to know is how the damn boiler got turned up so high in the first place. I just checked the fucking thing last week and it was fine." She watched InuYasha's hand came into contact with another pipe, saw him jerk it back and curse as he burned himself again.

She winced in sympathy. Once again, her fingers gripped futilely at the collar of her shirt, tugging in an effort to keep cool. "Wouldn't it be easier to wait until after the pipes cool off? At least you wouldn't be burning yourself so much."

Even his snort sounded odd coming from inside the wall. "I'd rather just get it done. The burns are no big deal."

She glared at him. "No big deal? But you could sca--" He shocked her into silence by pulling one arm free and holding it out for her inspection. She stared at the red welts of varying length and width that decorated the smooth skin of his forearm. It took her another moment and a confused frown to figure out what he was trying to show her.

Her eyes widened, and she drew in a sharp breath.

Slowly, one by one, the red welts were fading, disappearing from his skin as if they had never been.

"See? I told you. They're nothing." As if her gasp had been some sort of signal, he pulled his arm back and continued his quest to conquer the rebellious plumbing fixture.

_Youkai healing_. Of course he wouldn't be bothered by the prospect of scarring. Youkai didn't scar unless the injury was extremely severe. She _knew_ that. She'd known that since she was--

Gray eyes widened.

_Since she was…._

Wait--she _had_ known that, hadn't she? Where did _that_ knowledge come from? Why…. Why was it just _there_ when she wasn't even thinking about it? Was it just common knowledge, or was it something special? Did it mean something?

A tiny frown carved a ridge between her eyes as she turned her gaze inward, searching desperately for another flash of insight. What _else_ did she know about youkai? If she concentrated hard enough, could she--

"_Damn it_!"

His belligerent yelp startled her so badly that she shrieked and lost her balance, falling back onto her tailbone with a hard, jarring thud she felt travel all the way up her spine. She cringed. _That's going to bruise._

"Kagome? What happened _now_?"

She looked up. "I--" He'd managed to tilt his head so he could see her through the pipes, and the amber tint of his eyes latched onto her intently. The steamy air almost seemed to make them glow. She swallowed. "N-nothing."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Finally, though, he just shook his head. "Keh. You don't look so good. Get out of here."

That prompted a faint smile to curve her lips. He was probably right. The sweat that had been beading on her skin for the past few minutes was starting to roll in soft, ticklish lines down her body, and the heat had become an almost literal force in the room, a weight that pressed on her. Her mouth was dry, and she could do with a cool glass of water.

But she didn't want to leave just yet. She felt an intriguing sense of camaraderie with him at the moment, and she didn't want to break it just yet.

When she'd lost her balance, her foot had kicked out to the side, dislodging something from underneath the toolbox. A book. Squirming around until she was sitting on her knees beside a grumbling InuYasha, she reached out and plucked the paperback off the damp tile. Her brows lifted in surprise as she read the title:

'Plumbers Handbook: A technical guide to systems, pipes, and problems.'

She darted a quick look up at her preoccupied boss before she flipped open the thick volume. A quick skim through the table of contents revealed a chapter devoted to fixing leaks. It seemed a simple guide, the language only somewhat technical, making most of it easy to decipher; it was even illustrated, the chapter itself divided by types of piping. Slim dark brows narrowed in concentration, she started reading.

After fifteen minutes of companionable silence, she darted another look up at him, then frowned down at the book in her lap.

"InuYasha? How big is the leak?"

She startled him with her question, because it was rapidly followed by a hollow bang--a small-sounding one, though, so it was probably only his finger--and the obligatory swearing. When he finally got around to answering her, he sounded more annoyed than curious. "It's small, but there's more than one of 'em in the damn thing."

Her brow furrowed. _More than one_? "Does it need to be replaced?"

He stilled for a moment before he spoke again, almost as if he were trying to figure out why she was asking. "Yeah. But we have to order a new one anyway, so I'm trying to get it working until then. It'll be a pain in the ass if we have to make do with just the outdoor bath." He was quiet for about ten seconds before he tacked on a terse, "Stop distracting me."

She nodded, and her fingers made another absent swipe at the film of moisture heavy on her forehead as she studied the book on her lap. She rubbed them against her jeans, wishing there was a way to air out the room so her skin didn't feel so clammy. "So that means you're using a sealant, right?"

He grunted.

Kagome took that to mean 'yes'. This time her brow furrowed. "Do you really think that will hold it?"

He grunted again, and finished with whatever he'd been doing for the past few minutes, because he shifted around slightly to the side. "Hell if I know."

Her head jerked up, her slate gray eyes rounding, then narrowing abruptly as salt seeped into their corners and stung. Blinking, she rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. "What?"

"I don't know shit about plumbing." He said it matter-of-factly, as if that answered her question.

Which it sort of did. "You…." She stared at him, then down at the book in her lap. "So…why are you trying to fix it yourself?"

His snort told her plainly how stupid he thought _that_ question was. "Because it's broken--and the monk sure as hell can't do it."

"But…. What if you make it worse?"

There was unqualified--slightly exasperated--confidence in his voice. "Then I'll find a way to fix that, too."

She chewed on a nail, then sighed heavily, using both hands to lift the remnants of her braid off her neck, trying to let the skin breathe in the heavy atmosphere. "But the book says…."

"Book?" _Now_ he sounded curious. From the corner of her eye, she saw his hands stop whatever they were doing and his head angle around the pipe to stare at her. Then he startled her by shoving his way out of the narrow wall space to sit up once again, a faint furrow to his brow.

Unsure of what she'd done, she dragged her concentration away from the words on the page, and glanced up, looking askance at the hanyou sitting with his back to the wall only a few feet away. He was staring at her strangely, a rather charming little tilt to his head.

"You read that thing?" One clawed finger pointed at the book in her lap. He sounded surprised--looked surprised, too. His whole face had lightened, amber eyes widening, eyebrows lifting, and soft white ears that had been drooping in the heat perking up. "There's a lot of technical shit in there. You understand that stuff?"

"I…." She blinked at him, then let her hair drop back onto her neck. "Well, mostly…." He was right. There was some seriously complicated kanji in there--phrases and wording that a normal high school education didn't necessarily afford a person. She hadn't even noticed when she'd puzzled them out in her mind. "Yeah…." She glanced back down at the book on her lap. "I guess I do."

For a few minutes, they sat in pensive quiet.

Kagome sensed him staring at her, but she refused to look up. She realized that the ease with which she'd deciphered the words said something about her--she just wished she knew what it was. She bit her lip and risked a quick glance up from under her lashes. He was still staring at her, but his gaze had turned vague in the way she was learning to associate with deep thought--as if he were looking inward rather than outward. "You too?"

She only partially succeeded in returning his attention to her, but did manage to get his eyes to focus--lazily, almost absently--on her features. "Yeah. My parents made me learn all kinds of obscure kanji when I was a kid." He shrugged. "I know lots of random shit. It's nothing special."

Kagome felt herself perk up eagerly, curious even as the intense heat was starting to press in on her. "Your parents? You have relatives?"

The question brought him out of whatever mental haze he was in, because his gaze suddenly sharpened. His eyes narrowed slightly, their clear amber tracing over her features. Then they widened with the faintest hint of shock and he pulled away, glancing to the side as he moved backwards again, his hands wrapping tightly around the edges of the wall as he lay back. He didn't speak until he had effectively ensconced his upper body behind a small network of pipes.

"I did." His voice was oddly neutral, without inflection of any kind. "They're dead."

"Oh." She deflated as quickly as she'd perked up, suddenly feeling immensely guilty. "I'm sorry."

He snorted, and the sound echoed weirdly through in the hollow he'd created. "Don't be. It was a long time ago."

She felt an inexplicable, wistful ache in her chest, and had to swallow to keep it from sounding in her voice. "They were your only family?"

"No." This time he growled his words, his hands tugging hard at something. "I have a half-brother." He paused, then grunted, his words going short and flat. "We don't talk."

She gave him a stricken look. "I'm sorry," she repeated quietly.

That seemed to give him pause. "Why?" He sounded perplexed. "That sorry fuck's a first-class asshole."

She winced at the harsh language, then sighed softly, looking down at her hands where they twisted together in the air above the pages of the book. She could feel the sweat trickling liberally now, down the sides of her face, along the covered curves of her body, but she ignored it. "But I know what it feels like to be alone."

Once again, her words stilled him. He cocked his head, and managed to peer out at her. "But I'm not alone." Her eyes jerked up and to meet his matter-of-fact gaze. "And neither are you."

Gray eyes widened and she stared at him, unable to look away as she took in his words.

_Oh, gods._

She couldn't breathe.

Her gut suddenly twisted itself into hard, tense knots. Her heart skipped a beat, then resumed at a fast, erratic rhythm. Her lungs squeezed, and the air in the room felt thick, hard to pull in; a foreign, pleasantly achy sensation swirled deep in the pit of her abdomen…and lower. And despite the heat, a brief rise of gooseflesh razed across her skin, startling a shiver of pure sensitivity from her.

The suddenness of it, the force of it, stunned her. Save for the faint gasp of air escaping her lips, she froze.

He blinked at the unexpected sound. She saw his nose twitch. His eyes widened, flickered with comprehension….

And then she watched his expression tighten. Darken. Flare with heat and…. And something else, something far more basic. She saw his chest heave as he sucked in a breath, and the smooth bunch and shift of muscle as he started to sit up--the movement almost automatic--his gaze locked on her.

Her fingers clenched tightly around themselves, and she panicked. "I-it's hot in here, isn't it?" she blurted, her voice shaking--whether from the strength of her reaction to him, or the unknown intent in his reaction towards her, she didn't know. She surged to her feet, almost clumsily, staggering a bit as she realized that they'd fallen asleep on her. She managed to correct her balance and whirled, heading for the doors at the back--the only direction that would take her away from him. "We should….air it out a little."

She needed to clear her head. She needed to think.

_She needed to figure out what that was_.

But she was right. It _was_ hot. And she'd been in that heat just a little too long. Dizziness hit her like a punch in the head, and she staggered again, disoriented. Behind her, she heard InuYasha growl out her name--a warning.

Too late.

Her feet hit the lip of the bath, and she tripped. She fell sideways, splashing into the steaming bath water--clothes and all--with a sharp, stunning slap.

The water closed around her head, and she tried to make for the surface, but her body didn't want to move in the sudden shock of near-scalding water.

_Oh, damn,_ she thought wearily as her reality faded from watery gray, to glowing red, to pitch black._ Now we're going to have to clean out the bath, too._

* * *

It had taken him less than an hour to get everything on Kaede's list. As near as Miroku could figure, that left him at least two hours before he had to start heading home if he wanted to be back in time for dinner. Two whole hours to do whatever his heart desired. Two hours for a little 'R-and-R'--and considering how chaotic things around the Sachi had been recently (the entertainment value of the situation being beside the point), he figured he deserved some basic stress relief.

Two hours.

Koharu probably wouldn't mind if he stopped by for a chat and some…er…_tea_.

Whistling cheerfully to himself, Miroku loaded the last bag of rice into the back of the truck and slammed the doors, making sure to lock up before he left it parked on the street. Then he tucked the keys safely into his pockets and headed off down the one of the many sidewalks lining Sounkyo's cobblestone streets--still whistling, and aiming the occasional charming smile at a passing beauty here or there.

He rounded a corner, allowing his violet gaze to skim across the street almost casually as he went. Something snagged his vision and his head snapped around, followed more slowly by his feet as he drew to a stop. Hands still shoved deep in his jacket pockets, he just stood stock still in his tracks, staring at the outside portion of the same restaurant where he and Kagome and InuYasha had eaten only days before.

He couldn't believe it.

_It's her._

The mystery traveler from before. He could only see her back, but…. He would recognize that charming backside anywhere. And, of course, that long, thick hair cascading over the back of her chair to swish against it--which of course, conjured fleeting visions of her in nothing _but_ that hair.

Ah, sweet bliss.

He hadn't even gotten a clear look at her face yet. Although…. Nothing stopping him today, was there?

She was sitting at one of the white metal tables that littered the outside of the café, sipping on some kind of drink as she studied the table in front of her. Violet eyes narrowed and his neck craned in an attempt to see what she was staring at so intently. His feet carried him over a few steps until he could see her partial profile, and his eyes widened slightly as he realized what she was doing.

_Is that…shogi?_

_Well, well, well_. His curiosity spiked.

She had one of those small traveling games set up on the tabletop in front of her, and--though he couldn't really tell from this distance--the pieces seemed to be scattered about in a pattern that implied game play. He felt both brows lift in surprise. She didn't appear to have a companion.

Whom was she playing with?

As he stood there, straining his eyesight from across the street, he suddenly saw one slim hand reach out and…_pick up the opposing side's piece?_ Her head tilted in a moment of consideration as she held the wedge-shaped wood in her hand. Then she carefully set it down closer to her side of the board and sat forward, resting her chin in her hand.

Realization struck, and Miroku rubbed thoughtfully at his own chin. Not only did she play shogi, but she played against herself? Interesting woman.

_Ah, but is she any good?_

He watched for a few more minutes, just to make absolutely sure she was alone, then shrugged and stepped forward to cross the street. He approached her casually, wending his way through the scattered--mostly empty--umbrella-shaded tables behind her. As he drew closer, he noted two things simultaneously: that she was indeed playing against herself, and that he was wrong about her not having a companion. Her companion just happened to be on the diminutive side. Draped lazily across her lap, eyes closed contentedly and small chin resting on its dark forepaws, was a tiny cat, which the woman in question would reach down and stroke on occasion.

He smiled his best "I'm a harmless, charming, regular guy" smile as he drifted to a stop even with her table. "You'll never win that way, you know," he stated by way of greeting.

_Hmm_….

She must have seen him coming somehow, because she didn't start. She didn't look up to see who had spoken. In fact, she didn't react at all. It was as if she'd known he was there the whole time and was just waiting for him to say something. Her face remained turned down and focused on the game in front of her. Her features were still mostly hidden by the straight bangs of her hair--although he did take note of some very smooth-looking skin and a rather soft set of lips--as she calmly reached out and plucked up a pawn from her side of the board and moved it next to the opposing side's lance. Then he saw her lips curve ever so slightly before they parted.

"Maybe," she said in answer to his statement. "But I'll never lose, either."

He only just had time to note that her move was a good one before she finally turned her face up and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. And quite beautiful eyes they were: dark, coffee-rich brown, framed by that peculiar shape that he remembered from before, dark eyelashes, and (if he wasn't mistaken) the faintest smidge of pink eyeshadow. She had a beautiful face, too--delicate lines, clear skin, and a soft, feminine quality that was quite attractive.

And now those pretty features were focused directly on him.

His smile grew. "Ah, but if you can't lose or win, then what's the fun in playing?"

Her posture straightened, lifting her chin off her palm, and her head tilted as she took a moment to study him. The slim line of an eyebrow notched up a bit as she considered his question, and he took great satisfaction in noting the spark of curiosity that flared in her eyes, the faint crack in her façade of indifference. "Maybe the fun is…. To see how good I am?" Her voice was dry and faintly skeptical. Obviously, she wasn't quite sure about him.

He gaze a faint nod, acknowledging her point. "But can you truly know how good you are if you never test yourself against anyone _but_ yourself?"

Her lips curved up again. "Well, I don't always play against myself, but my usual partner decided she needed a nap more than she needed mental exercise this time." Her hand stroked lovingly along the small bundle of yellow fur in her lap.

"Usual partner?"

"Yes. Kirara's quite fond of shogi, actually."

Surprised once again, he glanced down. The cat in her lap suddenly opened its eyes and looked directly at him, confronting him with their deep red color and slit pupils, as well as a startling gleam of intelligence. "Ah…." He hesitated, staring at the animal uneasily, unsure if she was teasing him or not.

And then he noticed the two tails, twining around each other, and the faint emanation of youki coming from the cat. "Ah," he said again. "I see." _A youkai._ And not just any youkai. Though its youki seemed negligible enough, Miroku had seen enough in his lifetime not to take impressions at face value. He suspected the youkai had the potential to be far more powerful than it appeared. The uncommon intelligence in the kitten's eyes was evidence enough to be cautious.

_More than a simple pet_, _then_, he concluded. _A true companion_.

_Interesting woman indeed._

He considered her for a moment. "Well, then. Since your…ah…_normal_ partner appears to be unavailable, perhaps you could make do with a stand-in?"

She hadn't been expecting the offer, because her eyes widened momentarily, showing the whites of her eyes like a skittish horse. Despite the unease it revealed, it had the most charming side-effect of emphasizing their exotic slant and thick lashes. "I don't know…." She hesitated, her smile fading, then gave him a pointed once-over. "Are you any good?"

He couldn't help the slow triumph that flavored his smile as it returned. "Oh…. Some would say I'm fair."

"Maybe…." She still looked reticent.

He sighed. "Perhaps it would help if I introduced myself." He swept into a deep, respectful bow. "I am Daishi Miroku." He paused and looked up. Her expression hadn't changed. "I run one of the inns in the area." Perhaps _that_ would alleviate her uncertainty.

She continued to stare at him, brown eyes remote, her hand stroking along the youkai cat's--Kirara, was it?--back with almost absent thought. The youkai was staring at him with a rather unnerving gaze, as if she were weighing and judging his suitability to be associated with her mistress. He fought the urge to clear his throat.

Unexpectedly, her smile was back, curving those soft lips of hers upward with some secret amusement. "Alright."

Miroku was no fool, and immediately took the opportunity to slip into the seat across from her and study the board. His brows lifted in surprise. It looked as if she had a fair game going on. No one side seemed to have too great of an advantage, although it appeared as if black--his side--was currently winning. That could easily change, though.

Well, it _could_ _have_ easily changed.

He had full confidence as he looked up once again. "Black's turn?" She nodded, and he studied the board once again. "May I ask why such a lovely woman is playing shogi by herself in the middle of a town such as Sounkyo?"

Her hesitation was faint, and he dismissed it out of hand as the normal caution one has when conversing with a stranger. "I am on…. Vacation. This is what I do on my vacations."

He picked up the lance and took the pawn she had previously moved next to it. "And what is it that you vacationing from?"

She hesitated again, longer this time. "I…." Her voice took on a neutral quality. "I am very good at solving problems for my…company. My work is very involved, and it sends me to many different places. It gets tiring every once in a while."

Miroku looked up sharply. He studied her for a moment, noting the sudden blandness in her features as she studied the board. She sat forward then, and moved her rook up. His mouth gave an amused twist. "So, am I to assume that you're traveling to rest from traveling?"

Her brown eyes flashed up at him for a moment before that faintly amused smile returned to her lips. "You could put it that way, I suppose." From her lap, a soft "mew" sounded--half in agreement, half to remind them both that her little friend was listening.

He sat back and studied the arrangement of pieces more carefully, trying to figure out what she meant to do before he moved again. "Is there perhaps a name to go with such an intriguing woman?"

That mysterious smile playing at the corners of her mouth never wavered. "Perhaps there is."

He waited, but she made no reply.

_Interesting. _He pulled his damaged hand from where he'd kept it in his pocket and steepled his hands in front of his face. Her eyes flashed over his hand immediately, and he knew she took in the scar and wondered, but she made no comment. _Even more interesting._

Three moves at the most, he figured, and he would have her in check. He smiled again. "Shall we make a little wager?"

Her brows lifted. "Wager?"

He nodded. "Since you seem reluctant to tell me your name, I suppose I'll just have to earn it from you."

He had her complete attention now, and had gained the additional benefit of distracting her from the game play. "Earn?"

He reached out his scarred hand and moved his own rook closer to her king. "If I win this game, you'll have to tell me your full name. Is that acceptable?"

She blinked at him, ignoring another "meow" from her companion. "And if you lose?"

He glanced around at their surroundings as if searching for an answer, allowing his violet gaze to move over the cobblestone street and the surrounding tables before they fell on the half-empty teacup at her elbow. He considered the small cup hesitantly, then nodded at it. "I'll pay your bill."

She stared at him for another long moment before she tilted her head, her straight bangs falling low across her forehead, and shrugged. "Alright."

She reached out.

Moved her rook again.

And smiled sweetly. "Check."

Just then, the waiter returned with several steaming dishes on a tray. While he watched in wide-eyed dismay, the woman across from him nodded at the waiter to set the large array of dishes off to the side. With yet another chiding "mew", Kirara jumped up onto the table and stared at him reproachfully.

Miroku just sighed.

__

Interesting woman indeed.

* * *

A/N: I have an absolutely horrid headache right now…. cry

Again, this is part one of two. It seems as if--for this story, anyway--the things I want to accomplish in one chapter always take longer. Ah, well. That's the way it goes. mumbles It might make the next chapter shorter, but it shouldn't be too bad….

Anyway, not much to say on this one, other than I absolutely love this story and I have so much fun crafting everything out, and I'm hoping it translates to the people who read it. I'd love to hear what everyone thinks is going on--just curious as to the impression people are getting about the characters. I'm trying to convey a certain sense about them all, and I'm wonder if I'm getting it right. How am I doing? J

As always, all comments and questions are appreciated and welcome.

Blessings and Cheers,

'Till next chapter,

Quill

P.S: Oh, and… Am _not_. (Yeah, you. You know who you are. :P)


	11. Shogi, Again

* * *

**Chapter 10**

* * *

The woman existed for no other reason than to make his life difficult. It was as plain-and-fucking simple as that.

Why else would she have ignored his repeated orders to remove herself from a room that was too hot for her? Why else would she have forced him to jump into at least five feet of scalding hot water to save her ass? And how the hell else could she have managed to get him out here in the hallway on his knees next to her supine body--jeans soaked, dripping wet, and literally scared to shit because she _still_ hadn't opened her eyes?

InuYasha's teeth ground together as his eyes made yet another anxious sweep over Kagome's still form.

The damn woman looked like she was sleeping. Her head lay tilted at an angle, her expression gentle and sweet, utterly peaceful. If it weren't for the matted, soggy black strands that clung to the edges of her face, the almost burning red flush in her cheeks, and the water that beaded and tracked along her skin, he would have thought she was taking a _nap_.

He growled quietly. Too bad she _wasn't_ merely sleeping. Then he wouldn't be stuck here, in far too close a proximity to her, worrying about if she would wake up any time soon, and how long it would take.

He'd known as soon as he'd hauled her ass out of the bathwater and onto the tile that he'd needed to get her cooled down fast. Her skin had been burning, her body far too overheated to remain in the sauna-like atmosphere of the bath. He'd almost taken her outside then, but decided the temperature difference was too extreme. He was already worried about her as it was; he didn't need her getting sick on top of everything else. So instead, he'd settled for carrying her to the outside hallway, which was cooler, but not the freezing chill of the snowy terrain outside.

And that was all he could do. The damn woman was taking forever to wake the hell up.

Her clothes plastered against her body, the material heavy and waterlogged. He cocked his head, and gave a fleeting thought to finding something to cover her with (he was sure he'd left a sweater in the bath behind him after he'd pulled her out) but was unsure of whether that would be wise or not. Kagome, for her part, still gave no sign of movement or awareness. In the eerie stillness of the hallway, the most prominent sound was the faint, irregular splats of the water dripping from his hair and jeans. Only by concentrating could he make out the faint rhythm of the breath rushing through her lungs.

His ears twitched forward, almost unconsciously straining to catch the soft whispers, and he shifted on his knees to combat the pinpricks of restricted blood flow. _Damn._

At least she _was_ breathing on her own. He was damned if he could remember CPR….

He paused. Eyed her features again. Shifted again.

Not that he was thinking of doing anything like that.

He was damned if he was going to let his mouth get anywhere _near_ hers unless it was an absolute necessity. Screw what a nice mouth it was, and to hell with how inviting the soft curve of her lips looked. And he was absolutely _not_ paying _any_ attention to the gentle rise and fall of her chest…. Or to the way that her breasts were almost transparent through the light-colored shirt…. Or the way her nipples had puckered against the saturated cotton of the white (_white_ **_again_**,_ damn it_!) bra she wore beneath it.

Hell no. He hadn't even noticed.

Scowling, irritated with the direction of his thoughts, InuYasha reached an open hand out to cup against her heated cheek. "Kagome." Gently, he patted at the damp skin beneath his palm, careful of his claws.

She slept on.

He gritted his teeth against the wayward urge to brush his fingertips along the smooth texture, then called to her again. "Kagome." He winced when his voice came out high on the whiny scale. He felt helpless--anxiety-ridden that she might not be as unscathed as he thought she was, and faintly desperate to get out of this hallway and away from her. If the troublesome bitch didn't wake up soon, he was going to have to take her to Kaede--and damned if he wanted to carry her any farther than he already had.

More gritting of teeth. "_Kagome_! Wake the hell up, damn it!"

She sighed--serene and barely audible--and his thumb moved automatically to brush over the small sign of life. Warmth hovered briefly along the pad of the appendage, and his nostrils flared, trying to catch the scent of her breath. Only belatedly realizing what his hand was doing, he jerked it back, ripping his fingers away from her skin as he would rip a band-aid off his arm.

He turned his head away, glaring blindly at the wooden walls surrounding them. Both hands clenched into tense fists, and he pressed them firmly onto his thighs and resolved to keep them there.

The damn bitch really had him worried, and it was mostly his fault. Fucking _numbskull_ that he was, he hadn't realized right away that she was out. He'd thought she'd just tripped, and he'd actually been _relieved_ for the momentary reprieve. He'd desperately needed it at that point; those brief moments had been just enough to regain control over bodily senses that were flaring out in idiotic rebellion.

Yeah…. For a moment there, he'd almost….

His scowl deepened.

He'd made the mistake of letting his guard down; the sense of camaraderie had been subtle, slipping in under his radar without his notice, lingering around them like a comfortable old blanket. Her presence hadn't been so bad--sitting beside him, asking questions, distracting him, and generally just keeping him company. She'd certainly kept him from being bored.

His saving grace had been the damp air. It had hidden her scent from him, let him relax, actually to--maybe, somewhat--_enjoy_ her presence. She had a calming influence, a lighthearted spirit that seemed to seep into the very air around her.

It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to feel calm or at ease, never mind _lighthearted_.

But then a faint whiff of her had slipped through the moisture and the heat. It'd gripped his attention, riveted him, and he'd been unable to help but wonder what had caused such an… intense fluctuation. One glimpse of the panic and confusion on her face--one hint of the delicate but unmistakable underpinnings of feminine arousal and…. Hell, he hadn't even realized that he was moving until she'd surprised him by scrambling away.

What the fucking hell _was_ that anyway? He wasn't even sure what he was going to _do_, only that he'd reacted instinctively. It was as if she'd cast a spell over him. His brain, his normal thought process, had blanked out, and the next thing he'd known, he'd been sitting up, reaching out, his sole intent on _her_.

His teeth snapped together, and he almost growled in frustration.

Damn it, it was her fault anyway! Staring at him like that, with those expressive gray eyes. Saying all that stuff in that silly, soft, empathetic tone. Sitting so…fucking…close….

Did she _have_ to sit so _close_?!

It was only _after_ she hadn't come sputtering to the surface within the expected timeframe that he'd realized something was wrong. A few precious seconds while water could have been rushing into her lungs, choking off what little air supply she had. He'd been so damn distracted, trying to control his own body, trying to fight off the wayward impulse to chase her down when she'd bolted--

Not, he reminded himself hastily, that he'd really _wanted_ to chase her down…. It was more an _instinct_ than any actual _desire_….

And she'd almost gotten hurt because of it.

She drew an irregular, shuddering breath, snapping him out of his thoughts and back into the hallway. He glared down at her, anxious again, waiting impatiently for some kind of movement, something to let him know she was as perfectly all right as she should be. Her chest rose in another deep breath. She moaned, the sound soft and shockingly seductive; it nearly vibrated through the air between them, stimulating his already twisted nerves. Against his will, his ears twitched in reaction, and his eyes flew to her mouth--still relaxed, still closed, still soft and inviting….

He felt a muscle in his jaw tick as he clamped his teeth together--and nearly bit his tongue. He was deeply irritated that she'd managed to distract him again, if only for a moment.

Her eyebrows scrunched; her eyelids fluttered, then lifted. Her brow wrinkled briefly as she stared at him, her eyes narrowed and blank with confusion.

A second of absolute, frozen quiet. An underlying sense of hyper-awareness.

Then her eyes widened in surprise. "InuYasha? What…?"

"You fell into the bath, that's what." He was pleased to hear that he sounded as annoyed as he felt. "Almost fucking drowned." He snorted. "Why the hell didn't you just _listen_? Dummy. I have other things to do besides save your ass all the time, you know."

"I…." She blinked a few times. Abruptly, her expression grew horrified. Her body tensed and she bolted upright, the damp strands of her hair flying around her face to slap at her skin. "I fell in the bath! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have--"

He cursed again softly as dizziness hazed over her features. She swayed, gasped, and put an unsteady hand to her forehead. Before he even realized it, his hands were gripping her shoulders through the material molding itself to her skin, forcing her to face him from in between the narrow space of his arms. Her hand went from her forehead to his wrist, fingers griping hard as she blinked away the blood-rush.

His jaw and brows were both set hard as he scowled fiercely. "Shit! How many times do I have to tell you to be careful?! You--" He hesitated. "You were…" _Wait_…. _Is_ _she staring at…_?

Damn, she _was_ staring at his chest. He could almost feel her eyes tracing over the naked expanse of skin. His muscles, already stressed, tightened a little a further. His mind abruptly took him back to what she had said before, in the bath, and the brief, unwelcome pulse of satisfaction he'd felt to realize that his body bothered her in some way. For a moment, he felt that same flare of masculine smugness--but only for a moment. He shook it off almost immediately.

"You were out for a while." His voice had gone from sharp and brusque to a much softer, near-gruff tone, but he barely noticed. "Don't push it yet."

Her eyes rose once again to meet his. They were wide now, their gray startlingly clear and alert. The expression in them was remorseful. Mortified. And they hid a spark of something else. An awareness. A distinct flare of feminine approval.

Something that had his body tensing once again--this time in anticipation….

"I'm sorry," she repeated, voice soft. Her cheeks, which had only just started to cool, colored in a little more. "I…didn't mean to cause you trouble. I should have left when you told me to."

"You…." He could feel the delicate shape of her shoulders beneath his palms; his thumbs rested lightly against the sleek jut of either collarbone. The heat of her body seeped into his fingers; the wet shirt was almost no barrier between his hands and her skin. Her head was tilted slightly, though her eyes held to his, peeking meekly up at him through wet lashes.

His eyes widened; his nostrils flared on impulse, pulling in her natural scent. She smelled heated, pleasantly warmed-over from the bath water. Her scent was faintly subdued, woven through with an acidity that could have been embarrassment or remorse--or both. Tinged with the faintest hint of excitement….

His heart jolted in his chest; the rest of him stilled in quiet expectation.

_Shit._

She was too damn close, her body language too damn submissive. Her posture was calm and accepting; she'd even left her neck exposed to his hands. Whether she was aware of it or not, she was acquiescing to his strength, putting out the sexual signals of a female accepting the dominance of a male. Deep within, the baser side of his instincts stirred restlessly, rising up to snap at the tight leash he usually kept on them.

"Kagome…." She didn't know. She couldn't possibly realize the signs she was sending him. It was completely innocent, of course it was. He still wanted….

"InuYasha?" She knew something was wrong, because her other hand was reaching up to grasp at his arm.

_SHIT._

Thoroughly unsettled, he yanked his hands away from her shoulders and sat back off his knees, getting as far away from her as he could without it actually _looking_ like he was trying to get away from her. He drew up one knee and rested an elbow on it, turned away from her to train his eyes on the floor off to the side, and ruthlessly squashed down all the rogue impulses running amuck in his brain, urging him to do stupid things.

Seriously, it was time to get _out_ of this damn hallway.

"Don't worry about it." At least his voice was back to normal--clipped, rough, and indifferent. He paused a minute and drew a sanity-enforcing breath before he continued. "Just…. Don't do it again."

This time it was she who hesitated a moment before answering. "Okay."

She sounded solemn. He couldn't help but look back at her, couldn't help raking an assessing glance down her body. She hadn't moved. She still sat in the same position and stared at him with those eyes--eyes that were puzzled now. He fought off a grimace, knowing he was the cause of her confusion. "You ok now? It was pretty damn hot in there."

Kagome blinked slowly at him a few times, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was going to question his odd behavior. Then a tiny smile lifted her lips. It warmed her face and eradicated the confusion, making it nothing but a bad memory. "I'm all right. Thanks for not letting me drown."

Some of the tension drained from his shoulders at her smile, though a snort rose through his throat at her words. "Feh. Too much of a pain in the ass to deal with a dead body."

She seemed amused by that, and her smile turned slightly impish. "And Miroku complains too much about the cleaning if I'm not around, right?" she offered wryly.

He snorted again, this time somewhat amused despite himself, although he didn't show _her_ that.

She sighed, then glanced down at the clothes practically adhering themselves to her skin, and the large puddles of water collected on the floor beneath them. "I guess I caused another mess, huh?" Her hands smoothed over her face, pushing the slowly drying strands away from her skin. "Sorry."

He rolled his eyes. "Stop apologizing. You're not hurt, and nothing else got damaged. Everything's fine."

She nodded, then cast a worried glance behind him toward the baths. "What about the men's bath?"

InuYasha grunted in response, mildly surprised to find that he had forgotten all about the reason they'd been in the bath in the first place. "It's almost done. A few more leaks to seal, and then we'll clean out the bath while we're waiting for them to dry." He shrugged. "Everything should be working again by this evening."

Kagome nodded again and fell silent, staring at the water on the floor. Then she startled him by clapping her hands with unexpected energy. "Right! I'll go get something to clean this up while you finish that." She hesitated, then fixed him with a challenging look, as if daring him to disagree with her. "Then after lunch, we'll all help with the bath so it will get done faster."

He stared at her for a few seconds, then felt a tiny smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Whatever. As long as it gets done." He shook his head and uncurled his body, stretching as he stood effortlessly to his feet. He started to head back for the baths, then checked himself. After a moment of internal struggle, he sighed and turned back, holding out his hand to the woman still sitting on the floor. "Come on."

She looked almost as surprised as he felt by the gesture. He wasn't sure himself why he did it, other than the odd feeling that he had to make sure she really was recovered enough to leave by herself. At any rate, he didn't back off while she pondered his hand.

Then she reached out and placed her hand in his. His fingers curled around hers and he tugged, pulling her to her feet. Her palm rested warm and comfortable in his hand, and her gentle smile returned as she found her balance on her feet. "Thank you."

He blinked at her and--reluctantly--released the warmth of her skin. "Keh. Go change those clothes before you get sick." He accompanied the gruff words with a nod in the general direction of her room, steadfastly refusing to look any closer at her body than he had to.

She blushed and nodded. "I'll be back in just a little bit to clean up the floor, so--" She stopped, then clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes going wide with horror. "Oh no! Shippou's towels! I was supposed to bring them right back for him! I forgot!"

"Shippou?" His brow furrowed curiously and his head came up, following the prick of his ears. Now that she said that…. He took a faint sniff of the air in the hallway and his eyes narrowed.

She wasn't paying him any mind now. "I put him in the kitchen today, and he was almost done, but he needed extra towels." She turned, and started to walk in the opposite direction of the way she _should_ be heading. "I need to get those to him right away, and then--"

"Don't bother." His hand snagged her elbow before she got two steps away from him. She turned to stare at him with owlish eyes. His brows flattened into a scowl. "The runt can do it himself." He was already turning as he spoke, his gaze going unerringly in the direction of the familiar scent in the air. Down the hallway a bit, at the opening where another hallway merged with this one, a few bushy bits of red-orange bangs and a pair of eager green eyes peered around the corner.

Behind him, he could hear the surprise in Kagome's voice as she noticed the small body that _he_ should have known was there the moment he arrived. "Shippou?"

Realizing only belatedly that he'd been spotted, the tiny fox-cub let out a surprised squeak and quickly disappeared back around the corner. InuYasha rolled his eyes. "Where the hell do you think you're going? Get back here." He paused, waited, then growled to show he meant it. "_Now_."

A minute of hesitation followed, and then the tiny body edged itself back around the corner, looking faintly sheepish and more than a little wary of the hanyou glowering at him from a few feet away. Thanks to his 'escape and evade' tactics of the past few days, the brat had successfully avoided eye contact since his punishment right after the glue incident.

InuYasha eyed the kitsune suspiciously. _Fuck. The little brat was spying._ "How long were you there?" _And what the hell did you see?_

Not that there'd been anything for him _to_ see, really (absolutely _nothing_, in fact), but still….

Shippou immediately went on the defensive, giving his scowl back to him at full force. "Not long at all! All I saw was that Kagome was flat on the ground." Green eyes narrowed. "What did you do to Kagome? Why is she all wet, huh?"

For a moment, he was taken aback, not expecting the accusation in the kit's tone. Then his eyebrows snapped low, and he let out a faint growl. The little brat was questioning _him_? After that uncomfortable mess he'd put them through the other day--an incident that he'd yet to show true remorse over?

Fortunately for the brat, Kagome spoke up from behind him before he could vocalize his displeasure. "I'm fine, Shippou. I just tripped in the bath, and InuYasha got me out. He brought me out here to make sure I was okay."

Her explanation took all the aggression out of the kid's attitude. His tiny shoulders slumped, and his eyes flickered with…. _Was that--_No, it couldn't be. What possible reason could the runt have to be disappointed?

Come to think of it…. Why _had_ he been spying on them like that? If he needed something, why hadn't he just come out and said it? Why skulk around in the hallway as if he didn't want to be seen?

_Hold on…._

There was no possible way that Shippou could have had anything to with the trouble that had just gone down, right? As smart as the little prankster was, it was impossible that he'd orchestrated Kagome's fall into the bath…. So finding him spying like this was just a fucking _coincidence_…. Right?

Shippou sighed and shook his head. "Oh. Is _that_ all?"

_Is that all?!_ What exactly was the runt expecting? Golden eyes narrowed on a sudden, inexplicable rush of irritation. "Of course that's all! What the hell do you want, anyway?"

Shippou's expression bordered on mulish. "I was looking for Kagome, not you!" He turned to Kagome. "The floor's dry already, so you don't have to get me those towels after all." His expression brightened considerably. "How long until lunch?"

"Tch!" InuYasha tossed his head; the damp strands of his hair, having come loose from its restraint when he dove into the bath, slapped and stuck to his back and shoulders. "Bah! I've had enough of this. I'm going to finish with the damn pipes. Don't fucking bother me again." Turning on one bare foot, he started back towards the bath.

Behind him, he heard Kagome sigh. "All right, Shippou. I'll go make you some lunch now, but as soon as you're done eating, you have to come help me clean up this mess, ok?"

Halfway through the blue curtain marking the entrance of the men's bath, his feet froze. He was done with this situation--he really was. But…. "Go change _first_. Like I said, it would be a pain if you got sick again."

"Yes, but--" She hesitated. "What about you? You're all wet, too."

"Keh. A little water can't hurt me."

She sighed, then he heard the sound of her bare feet thumping softly across the floorboards, and his ears perked to follow it. "Shippou, I'll be back in just a little bit. Bring all the supplies from the kitchen in the meantime, okay?"

The kitsune replied unhesitatingly. "Okay." He paused, then spoke far too casually for InuYasha's comfort. "Hey, InuYasha. You'll eat dinner with us tonight, right?"

_That_ had him turning around to stare suspiciously once again. "What of it?"

Shippou's exaggerated innocence did nothing to alleviate his mistrust. "Oh…. I just thought tonight would be a good night to teach Kagome some shogi, that's all." He turned an eager face towards Kagome. "Right, Kagome?"

She paused mid-step in her exit from the hallway, then threw a measuring look his way before she turned back to Shippou. A tiny smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "We'll see, Shippou."

Red-hot alarms went off somewhere in his head. He snorted uneasily, unable to figure out why. "No way. I have too much to do to play any games tonight."

"But--" Shippou immediately started to protest; Kagome's much softer voice cut him off.

"No, Shippou, it's fine. We can play without him."

Damn, now _Kagome_ sounded disappointed. He scowled, then pushed through the curtain, determined to get away from them both. "Do what you want." The acoustics of the bath closed around him, and he deliberately tuned out the softer sounds coming from outside the room, not wanting to be pulled back by whatever else they might say.

Rumbling softly from deep in his chest, he made his way back through the steamy interior. The air was still thick, only just beginning to clear as the boiler finally started to cool. He made his way over to his tools and glared first at the hollow he'd formed in the wall, then at the now-calm surface of the bath. He could see her sweater through the clear water, lying abandoned on the tiled bottom. At the sight of it, he growled again; the sound was louder this time and produced a satisfying echo.

What the hell was wrong with him, anyway?

He was doing his best to keep things simple, to keep their whole situation from getting out of hand. It was just that these stupid situations just kept cropping up without his permission, testing his resolve. And with each test, he grew a little weaker, a little less resistant.

His new housekeeper was a hard woman to ignore.

He grimaced. _That woman_. Damn her, anyway. She had the strangest effect on him. Her genuine warmth, that odd, friendly patience of hers, had slipped past some of his defenses without his even noticing. Hell, he hadn't mentioned either his parents or the asshole in years, not even to Miroku…. And yet they'd both slipped out naturally in conversation with her.

He was feeling things and thinking about things that had barely even crossed his mind for _years_. Strong things. Physical things. Things that made him….

__

Shit.

He shook his head violently, tamping down the errant thought.

It would probably be best if he _didn't_ eat dinner with them tonight. Whatever insanity had gripped him earlier, it couldn't happen again. He needed to reinforce that. He needed some time to get his damn head on straight, to remember that she was no different from any of the other females who came through here on a regular basis and barely caught his attention. He just needed to shore up his defenses.

That was all.

He snorted and got onto his back to scoot back into the hole. He snatched up the tiny bottle of sealant and got back to work, determined to dismiss Kagome and all associated turmoil from his mind.

And….

There was no way in hell that he was going to be playing any fucking _games_ tonight.

* * *

Dragging in a huge sigh, Kagome stepped into the room that had slowly become her own and shoved the door shut behind her with a hard thump. Then she just stood there with her back against the door, trying to will her heart into a steady rhythm. Her eyes scanned randomly around the room, skimming briefly over the neatly folded futon and blankets in the corner, then across the windows allowing brilliant sunshine to spill an illusion of warmth across the floor.

Knots twisted up in her stomach, and her blood felt oddly thick in her veins. She hadn't realized it was possible for blood to feel thick, but it did, and it wasn't nearly as unpleasant as it sounded like it should be. Nor was the fact that her lungs were pulling and pushing the air from her body at a faster-than-normal rhythm.

Actually, it felt quite…stimulating. Good. Pleasant, even.

Her fingers reached up to stroke at her cheek, where the hazy memory of a touch lingered on her skin. She could still feel the burning imprint of his palms on her shoulders; still feel the electric shock of unusual golden eyes pinning her down.

Something had happened between them in the bath. Some connection had flared brightly, and then been buried again as quickly as it sparked to life. InuYasha…. He'd been about to _do_ _something_ back there; his entire body had moved with smooth, unhesitating action. She'd seen it in his eyes, right before she'd fallen into the bath--a heated, intense awareness that had plucked every nerve ending in her body to vibrant life.

Her brow furrowed in thought. Her body trembled softly in the cool atmosphere of the room. She ignored the cold completely.

She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she'd just _stayed put _in that moment. She felt torn; she hadn't really wanted to leave…. The majority of her had been far more inclined just to sit still--to stay with him and see what he would do next. It was that tiny voice of panic, shrieking loudly in her head, that had prompted her actions. She'd run before she was really sure what she was running from, and she felt like an idiot for doing so.

Now she wished she _had_ stayed put.

Because, now, after standing here alone and contemplating them, she knew she was willing to explore it--that exciting, electrical current that sprang up between them whenever they were in the same room.

Her fingers absently brushed back the wisps of damp hair that clung to the side of her face, and she shook her head. No, that was wrong. She wasn't just willing; she was eager. She _wanted_ to explore them further. What had happened to her in the bath amounted to nothing less than sensual chaos, and not only had _he_ had caused it, but _she'd_ liked it. Despite the anxiety and confusion, he fascinated her. What his touch and presence did to her fascinated her--the intensity, the thrill, the vague, tantalizing promise of more. She wanted that promise back. She wanted to see where it might lead.

She wanted….

She desperately wanted him to kiss her.

She drew a quick breath, and her heart tripped again. Her fingers pressed against her lips.

That was what she had been waiting for him to do in the hallway. That was why she'd sat there with baited breath when he grabbed her shoulders. That was why she'd been so disappointed with his strange behavior and sudden withdrawal. She'd wanted him to move closer, not pull away.

She wanted to know what it would feel like to have his mouth on hers….

The only problem was that he didn't seem to want her back.

Her shoulders slumped, and she pressed her head back against the door. Ever since she'd first seen InuYasha, he'd done nothing but reject her presence, informing her in ways both verbal and physical that he found her a nuisance and a bother. He even seemed to shun any physical touch with her….

__

A firm grip, holding her up when she would have fallen.

Gentle fingers, plucking carefully at a splinter.

An outstretched hand, a husky mutter, and warm fingers gripping her own.

…Well, mostly, anyway.

But that didn't make sense either. She'd seen his face in the bath; whether he'd realized it or not, his expression had been gentle and concerned when he'd steadied her in the hallway. She could recall several other times as well, when his eyes had flashed with that same awareness--maybe even desire.

So _why_? Why did he fight so hard against it? Why did he push her away? Why did he refuse to allow anything to _happen_?

She desperately wanted something to happen now. She craved it; the desire was so intense it was almost an ache. It felt new, and exciting, and…important, somehow.

She was woefully lacking in experience--not because she didn't have any, but because she couldn't _remember_ any. She knew that. She'd lost most of the memories that might once have meant something to her, and she was incomplete because of it. She knew that, too.

But instead of bemoaning the loss, instead of investigating the wide, ever-present void in her mind, she had the oddest urge to _fill_ it. It was time to make more memories. She wanted to cherish, fully and without reservation, the life she had been granted here, in this place and time. It was almost like an instinct--a deep, gentle prodding to move forward and forget the past that she couldn't remember in favor of forging a future that she wouldn't want to forget. She felt fresh and alive and exhilarated, and the only thing she wanted to do was get on with life.

But InuYasha obviously didn't feel the same.

Kagome frowned and pressed her eyes closed in frustration. Was it her? Did he really dislike her so much, find her presence so offensive that he just wouldn't consider following this through? She couldn't believe that either. Not after the way he'd smiled just now; he didn't smile that often, but he'd smiled at her. And one of the things she was learning about him was that his actions were so much more important than his words or attitude.

Saving her from drowning might have been nothing more than obligation. Looking after her until she recovered might have been common sense. But helping her up, steadying her when she was dizzy, demanding that she change so that she didn't get sick? Actions like those sprang from genuine caring--even if he tried to hide them with the gruff exterior.

So…. Why?

She bit her lip and started chewing, a thick knot of anxiety forming in her belly. Could it be that she was reading too much into their situation? Was she seeing more than was there? Were all those looks nothing more than an overactive imagination? Wishful thinking? Was all this building pressure evident only to her? _Affecting_ only her?

What an utterly depressing thought.

Shivers were starting visibly to shake her body now. She was cold, and she really needed to get changed and get back to cleaning. They had a lot to do between lunch and dinner.

With a despondent sigh, she pushed away from the door and headed for the small chest of drawers that InuYasha had somehow found for her to keep her clothes. Her movements were awkward in the wet clothes, and for a moment her expression was rueful as it crossed her mind that it might have been better to strip down in the women's bath and just borrow a spare yukata. It certainly would have been healthier than standing around in wet clothes when it was so chilly.

It required slightly more effort than normal since she was trembling so badly, but she managed to pull her shirt over her head and let it flop into a wet heap on the floor. The delicate chain around her neck was cold, as was the slightly thicker metal that lay heavily against her upper chest. She paused and allowed her fingers to brush over it carefully, drawing on the mysterious comfort she always got from its presence.

She heard a soft thump from somewhere in the building--one of the many signs of life that permeated the Sachi throughout the day--and sighed again. She didn't have time to stand here and contemplate things she couldn't figure out or remember. She had people depending on her to get her work done--and these people were too important to her to ever let them down. She would just have to think about this stuff later.

It took her a few minutes of struggling to work herself out of her pants (the water-logged material was so tight that getting them over her hips was like trying to shed a layer of skin) before she let them join her shirt in her growing pile of damp clothes.

She stood there for a moment, covered by nothing but the wet, clinging material of her bra and panties. _Still_, she mused, _it's too bad that he doesn't want to play shogi._ Another shiver rippled along her spine, prompting her to scrabble for the catch in her bra.

She thought about the way he'd dismissed both Shippou and her, and gave a soft huff. _Really. He didn't have to be so rude about it._ "Jerk," she muttered, peeling away the last of her wet underwear and immediately feeling warmer for it. Shippou had looked so disappointed.

She couldn't help but admit to herself that _she_ had been as well.

"Jerk," she muttered again as she started to rummage forcibly through her drawers for something dry and warm.

* * *

Miroku didn't return until well after dinner, and he was in the oddest of moods when he did.

He'd lost. He'd lost that first game with his mysterious woman. That was something he hadn't expected. He hadn't truly and legitimately lost a game of shogi since his early teenage years.

After staring in faint disbelief at the checkmate for a few moments, he'd challenged her to a second game, thinking that it was the fault of his going into a match already half-played. Then he'd lost his second, too; not an easy victory for her by any means, which was a salve to his ego, but he'd still _lost_. Completely bemused after that, he'd challenged her again, fully intending to cheat just so he could find out her name.

Unfortunately, she'd caught him. Not only was the woman a skillful strategist, but she had an impressive right hook.

All told, he'd lost three games of shogi in a row, doled out a significant amount of pocket change for her dinner, and he _still_ didn't know her name. Oh, and he'd never gotten around to visiting Koharu, either.

Miroku hadn't so thoroughly enjoyed an evening in years. He hadn't even noticed how much time had passed until their waiter, bill in hand, had oh-so-politely--and loudly--cleared his throat. He'd looked around and realized the sun had been set for quite some time.

Conversation with his mysterious woman was like a separate game of shogi in and of itself, full of pitfalls and hidden meanings. She was ridiculously hard to pin down, and he considered it a great victory that she'd indicated that she might consider another game sometime as she'd walked away. He'd left Sounkyo with the vague, nagging feeling that he hadn't even begun to scratch at the intricacies of her personality.

He couldn't wait to see her again. It would be a challenge, since he didn't know who or where she was--not to mention he would have to find an acceptable excuse to come back into Sounkyo sometime soon--but he was confident he could mange it. It was all a matter of finding the right opportunity and exploiting it.

Miroku's mind was completely preoccupied as he pulled the truck into its normal spot off to the side in the gravel. Out of habit more than anything else, headed for the back, preferring the warmth of the kitchen to the cool emptiness of the entryway. His boots made soft crunching sounds in the inky stillness of the night air, and tranquility seemed to radiate from the tree-laden mountains. At the moment, he was feeling quite content with his life. Shivering slightly from the sharp, cutting cold, the Sachi's manager climbed the short stairs of the porch and reached out a gloved hand to let himself into the kitchen.

The sight that met his eyes was unexpected, to say the least. The door slid open with a subtle scrape-thud, and his entire body gave a startled check. His eyebrows lifted and, for a few moments, all he did was stand out on the porch and stare as the sounds of easy conversation drifted into his hearing.

"What if I moved this pawn over here?"

A snort. "Then I'll take your knight and you lose your advantage over my king."

"Oh." A pause. "Then what about moving the knight?"

"Where to?"

"Um… How about…. Here?" The faint clack of wood meeting wood.

Another pause, then a begrudging, "Okay. Now I have to move my bishop," promptly followed by a faintly impressed, "Damn."

_InuYasha and Kagome…playing shogi?_

They both sat at the kitchen table, perpendicular to each other. InuYasha sat back in his chair with one leg crossed under him, the other splayed comfortably against the floor; he had one arm draped along the tabletop, and one clawed finger tapping a soft, restless rhythm onto the wood. Kagome had both knees drawn up, her bare heels resting on the polished wooden seat of her chair, and her head tilted slightly to the side. Both of them were staring intently down at his shogi board, which they'd laid out between them, flat wooden pieces scattered both on and off the board. They didn't even glance around when he opened the door.

Quite a cozy, intimate little picture the two of them made.

Miroku blinked once, then glanced around the kitchen as he kicked off his boots. Neither Kaede nor Shippou were anywhere to be seen. They were alone. They were alone, and they were playing shogi. And InuYasha didn't seem all that inclined to leave. In fact, he seemed rather involved in the game.

Okay. And how had _this_ come about?

"Oi, Miroku. Make up your mind and shut the damn door."

He blinked again. InuYasha hadn't even looked up to say that. Kagome had, though. She pulled her attention away from the game--in what look to be a somewhat reluctant gesture--to focus on him. Her color was high, and her expression pleased and warm. She looked like she was enjoying herself.

She gave him a distracted but hospitable smile. "Welcome home, Miroku. Did everything go all right in town?"

Her question shook him out of his bemusement, and Miroku couldn't help but return her smile as he thought back over his evening. "Actually, it went very well indeed."

Kagome nodded in acknowledgement while, with another wooden clack, InuYasha made his move. "Did you get everything we needed?"

Miroku found it very interesting how quickly her attention returned to the board and the hanyou across from her, so he spoke without thinking. "Of course. We shouldn't have to return to Sounkyo again for a while."

"That's good." Kagome nodded again as she frowned at the pieces. "InuYasha? Why move there?"

"Because I'm going after your king. You left it weak on this side, and if I move the lance here, I can clear a path for my bishop by forcing you to move _your_ lance to defend. Like this."

Miroku watched in fascination as InuYasha--completely ignoring his manager--sat forward and, almost patiently, took his housekeeper through the next three moves he planned to make in their game. Kagome's face slowly cleared in understanding, then she bit her lip as she tried to figure out her next move.

InuYasha, seemingly satisfied with his progress and hers, sat back once again and sent a brief glance his way out of the corner of his eyes. "In or out, monk? It's fucking freezing outside."

"InuYasha." Kagome's voice was chiding, though she didn't look up.

The hanyou scowled at her--a completely wasted effort, because she didn't look up to see it. "What? He's letting all the warm air out."

"Miroku's been gone all afternoon. I'm sure he's tired after getting home so late."

InuYasha snorted again. "Right. All that _shopping_ could tire anyone out. That still doesn't excuse him from standing there like an idiot while we freeze."

Kagome didn't miss the innuendo. Her head shot up, her eyes widened slightly and a becoming blush colored her cheeks. "Oh."

Miroku half-winced. "I beg your pardon." He spoke out immediately in his own defense, seeing no reason to accept responsibility for something he'd never gotten around to doing. "I'll have you both know that I didn't see Koharu at all today."

Kagome didn't look like she believed him, but tactfully kept her mouth shut.

InuYasha had no such qualms on commenting. This time his friend turned to face him directly, skepticism clear in the narrowed golden gaze. "Sure you didn't. It really did take you all day to…." InuYasha's nose twitched slightly, and a confused expression slid across his features, followed closely by a suspicious one. "Hey. What the hell _were_ you doing all day, then?"

Kagome's gray gaze joined InuYasha's golden ones, widened slightly with curiosity.

Miroku hesitated, finding himself the focal point of both of the kitchen's occupants. Unwilling to go into the details of his afternoon, he stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him, lifting his brows in wry acknowledgement. "Apparently, nothing more than you were doing." Then, before either of them could question him further, he turned to InuYasha. "I take it everything went well in repairing the bath?"

He could almost see the current that crackled through the air between them.

A blush heated Kagome's cheeks. In a self-conscious gesture, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The soft ears atop InuYasha's head gave a single, violent twitch, and he suddenly looked extremely annoyed. His knuckles gave a faint crack as his fingers tensed. Miroku didn't miss the brief, searching glance the young woman darted across the table, nor did he miss the way the hanyou refused to look at Kagome until she'd turned her gaze back to the board. And then he _couldn't possibly _miss the hot, agitated way that amber eyes glanced over the lovely, comfortably curled form of her body before jerking away.

Miroku's eyebrows almost hit his hairline. _Ok. What the hell did I miss?_

After a moment, InuYasha seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts to mutter out a reply. "It went fine."

"Uh-Huh." He eyed the two. "So everything is back in working order?"

InuYasha shrugged. "For now. We have to get some new pipes or the damned thing'll bust again."

Miroku blinked. "New pipes?"

"Yeah, pipes." InuYasha's scowl was back. "Something wrong with your ears? Some of the pipes have leaks. We need to replace them."

"Ah." It took another second for him to absorb that bit of information--and then he was immediately distracted by the beginnings of an idea that started nipping at his brain.

__

Well, now. This could prove favorable.

His eyes narrowed in cool calculation as he continued to stare at his friend. "And I assume you are planning on taking the burden of this little project upon your own shoulders?"

InuYasha scoffed and sent him a "what do _you_ think" look. "Who else is gonna do it? The old bat?"

__

Bingo.

Miroku merely nodded. "And I assume you want me to order the pipes for you?" He paused, then stressed, "_And_ pick them up when they come into _Sounkyo_?"

InuYasha's expression morphed from "what do _you_ think" to "are you _nuts_" at the odd emphasis he'd put on his words, but Miroku didn't care. Satisfaction surged through him, and he couldn't help the smug grin that curled across his features.

_Find the right opportunity and exploit it._

Kagome interpreted his words a little differently than InuYasha did. She looked up with a frown. "If you don't want to go into town, Miroku, maybe InuYasha could…." She trailed off as the hanyou in question turned a glare on her.

"Don't volunteer me to do stuff!"

At nearly the same instant, Miroku started shaking his head. "Not at all, dear Kagome. It's no trouble at all, I assure you. It is my honor to accept the responsibility of retrieving the Sachi's new pipes."

InuYasha's head came around and a pair of suspicious golden eyes pinned him with a hard, searching stare. Hmm. It was possible he'd overdone his protest.

_Time for a change in subject._ "Anyway…." He nodded in the direction of their game. "Who's winning?"

The redirect worked nicely, as they both simultaneously glanced first at the board, then each other. Their gazes collided, held, then yanked in opposite directions. InuYasha crossed his arms defensively, and scowled at his manager. "Keh. No one. Can't you see she's still learning?"

Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Miroku let a smile hover along the corners of his mouth. "Of course she is. How could I forget? Shippou's been talking about teaching you for weeks."

InuYasha's expression darkened slightly at the mention of the kitsune. He blew out a soft snort and turned his attention back to the board with a growl. "That fucking little _brat_."

Kagome's slim brows furrowed as she shot InuYasha an odd look, then reached out a tentative hand to pluck up one of her wedge-shaped pieces. "He's only a child. I really don't think you should hold it against him…."

He returned her look with an outraged one. "He fucking tried to set me on _fire_!"

Miroku blinked again, then inquired in a mild voice, "Fire?"

Kagome ignored him to roll her eyes at InuYasha. "No, he tried to warm up your food because you were complaining that it was cold. The only reason your food caught on fire was because you tried to jump out of the way. _You_ were never in any danger at all. You didn't even get burned."

"Like hell." His scowl was black. "The little bastard was _aiming_ for me. Besides, it _was_ cold."

Her gray eyes snapped with impatience. "Then next time eat _with_ us instead of nosing around for food an hour after dinner is over!"

"So you _are_ on his side!"

"What side? What he did was foolish, but not malicious, and now he's being punished! How are there sides?!"

"You didn't even want to punish him!"

She rolled her eyes again, this time in full-blown exasperation. "I never said that. I just said it could wait until tomorrow. It's late, and we were in the middle of a game!"

"Which _I'm_ now playing with you so that _he_ can clean out the fucking fireplace," InuYasha shot back crossly. "So make your damn move already."

Miroku felt his eyes widen.

"Ooooh… You!" For a moment, Kagome looked like she might _throw_ the shogi piece at him. For a moment, InuYasha looked like he was challenging her to do so.

Then, all at once, her eyes focused on the piece, and the steam abruptly went out of her as she blinked from the board in front of them, to the piece her fingers held suspended above it, and back. "Well… All right." She considered for a moment, and then cautiously placed the piece on a square on InuYasha's side of the game board. "How about…. Here?"

InuYasha's ears, which had had been pricked up and flicking alertly during their rapid-fire--yet highly informative--squabble, twisted forward. Looking vaguely taken aback by her sudden change in mood, he shifted in his chair. Leaning in towards the table, he uncrossed his arms and laid an elbow against the wood as he took a moment to scowl down at her move.

Miroku, still standing over by the doorway and almost forgotten, barely kept his expression in check. Astonishment warred with his self-control, attempting to pull his jaw down.

InuYasha was actually enjoying himself. He could see it in the way the hanyou sat forward almost eagerly, in the way his gaze livened as he took in the game--and his "opponent". He could see it in the faint grin that kept threatening to nudge its way onto his features when he forgot to frown.

For the life of him, Miroku could not recall a time during any of their many matches here at the Sachi when he'd seen InuYasha look like that. In fact, it had been years since Miroku had seen his friend so enthusiastically engaged in anything at all.

This time, the smile that turned his lips up was genuine. He cleared his throat to bring their attention back to him. "And where is our dear Kaede?"

InuYasha waved a dismissive gesture in the general direction of the hallway beyond the kitchen. "The old bat's making sure the little runt doesn't set anything else on fire."

"They're in the room across from the reception desk," Kagome added softly. She frowned to herself, and glanced over her shoulder towards the hallway. "Shippou should be almost done by now. All he had to do was sweep out the ashes."

InuYasha made low, grumbling comment that neither human could make out. Kagome turned back to stare at him suspiciously, and InuYasha quickly made his next move and sat back.

Belligerently, he crossed his arms and glared at Kagome. "Your turn."

She just blinked at him.

Miroku hid a smile. "If you'll excuse me…."

Kagome looked surprised. "You don't want to stay and play with us?"

Miroku didn't even pause on his way out the door. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I'm through with games for the day." With that sardonic comment and a final wave, he cheerfully left his friend and the beautiful new housekeeper to the mercy of their own proclivities.

Whatever they might happen to be.

* * *

A/N: wipes brow Phew! That took a lot more out of me than I expected. For some reason, I had a harder time with the POV's than I normally do. It turned out to be one of those chapters that you look at and revise so much that you're sick of seeing it. I finally just decided that I needed to feel accomplished (and that I needed to stop looking at it), so I'm throwing it up and hoping it flows all right and that everything makes sense.

Let me know how it turned out, please. I need a fresh perspective. Mine's getting a little old.

Anyway, things are about to speed up just a bit. Everything's pretty much where I need it to be, and now I can start in with the citrus and some serious relationship developments. is nervous about the citrus

Next chapter's about a quarter of the way written, but school and work take the majority of my time. Hopefully not too much longer. Everybody cross your fingers. And an extra special thank for all the feedback. The encouragement means so much to me.

Cheers and Blessings,

Quill


	12. Night Games

* * *

**Chapter 11**

* * *

The first thing Miroku saw as he stepped into the foremost of the Sachi's two living rooms was dust.

The second was the furry tail scrabbling around deep within the cold hearth opposite the door. The area carpet was rolled back and plastic lay out around the stone to catch all the dirt stirred by Shippou's movements. Loud huffs and sneezing fits filled the air; muted grumbling punctuated each scrape and whump as soot was dumped into a nearby plastic bag. Off to the side and far enough away to avoid drifting clouds of ash sat Kaede, tucked comfortably into an armchair, a blanket draped across her lap, a drug-store paperback spread open in her hands.

Neither one of them appeared to notice his entry.

He'd gotten the same non-reaction from InuYasha and Kagome; Miroku didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed.

He settled for mildly impressed. "You tried to set his food on fire?" At his words, the alternating "scrape-mumble-scrape" stopped its echoing off the stone walls of the fireplace. Miroku shook his head. "You know better than that, Shippou."

"Miroku! You're back!" The kitsune popped out of the fireplace, covered head-to-tail in soot and grime. Expression buoyant, he bounded across the floor, aiming for the manager's shoulder; with the ease of long practice, Miroku sidestepped the air-born, filth-covered child. Shippou landed with an "oomph" on the hard floor beside him as he turned to give Kaede a bow of greeting.

Kaede looked up from her book with her usual serene expression. "Welcome back, Miroku. I assume your trip into Sounkyo was productive?"

He acknowledged her with his customary nod. "Of course, dear lady. Everything you requested is in the truck, and will be brought in as soon as our young friend here is available to help."

A soft groan followed that statement, but both adults managed to act as if they hadn't heard. Miroku shared a look of mutual amusement with Kaede, then turned his violet gaze back to the kit who glared at them both from the floor. "I found the most interesting game going on in the kitchen, Shippou."

"They're still playing?" Shippou brightened. He sat up and tapped a thoughtful finger on his chin, against the one spot on his face that wasn't smudged all over with thick streaks of soot. "They've been playing for over an hour now." For a moment he looked hopeful. "Did they kiss yet?"

Kaede's brows lifted, but she didn't comment.

Miroku found that highly amusing. "So you _did_ do it on purpose. Deliberately setting his food on fire is a little extreme, don't you think?" He gestured around the room, taking in the fireplace and the evidence of hard work. "You know what making him angry usually gets you."

Shippou's features crumpled with dismay. "I didn't _mean_ to set his food on fire. I was just trying to make it hot. I thought if his food was hot, then he would stay and eat it in the kitchen, and then I could get him to play, too." A very hanyou-like scowl replaced the dismay, and he crossed his arms. "Stupid InuYasha."

That…actually wasn't a bad plan. Miroku felt his "mildly impressed" ratchet up a notch. "Interesting strategy, Shippou. Why shogi?"

Tiny shoulders lifted. "Finesse," he said simply--though a shade of smugness had entered his voice. "Shogi's something InuYasha does all the time. It's the same as what you said about the bath."

"I suppose it is." Miroku folded his arms, and narrowed his eyes down on the youkai. "Shippou, did you see what happened in the bath? They both acted strange when I mentioned it."

Green eyes scrunched up in thought. "No. I missed it. By the time I got there, they were already soaked and out in the hallway." He paused, then added, "From the way he was touching her, I thought he was actually gonna make a move," mild disgust tinged his expression, "but it turns out it was only because she fell in, so that was a bust."

Miroku blinked, then cleared his throat. "Ah…. Soaked? Touching her? What _exactly_ were they doing, Shippou?"

Kaede surprised them both by speaking up. "Kagome was overcome by the heat, and fell into the bath."

"Yep!" Shippou took advantage of Miroku's distraction and jumped up onto his shoulder--much to the manager's dismay. "She almost drowned, but InuYasha saved her. They _were_ both acting kinda weird while we were cleaning the bath, though." The kitsune's head bobbed with reserved optimism. "That's something, I guess."

Again, Kaede ignored the outburst. "Before lunch, InuYasha demanded that I look her over before I allowed her to do anything more strenuous."

_Hm._ Well, it wasn't quite what he'd had in mind, but…. Mentally, Miroku shrugged. Honestly, it would have taken all the fun out of the game if it were too easy. Besides, Shippou was right. He recalled the brief, telling moment of tension in the kitchen, and allowed a grin to ghost across his lips.

It was definitely _something_.

Kaede eyed him for a moment. "So, now you are working together." One graying brow lifted wryly. "You've dismissed all your concerns, Miroku?"

"Not dismissed," he corrected with dignity. "Simply…reconsidered." His smile was charming and completely unapologetic. "She has quite an interesting affect on him, Kaede. I believe that she may be just what InuYasha needs to move on. That makes the possible rewards worth the risks."

Shippou crossed his arms and nodded his head wisely, making little grunting sounds of agreement deep in his throat.

Now both gray brows arched. "Have you reconsidered the mystery of Kagome's previous life as well? It is possible that her affections are otherwise spoken for. That would be quite a dilemma should her memories return."

Miroku was shaking his head before she finished speaking. "InuYasha is convinced that she is untouched, and I have never seen his instincts wrong in a matter like this."

Kaede gave him a tolerant look. "I am not talking about the status of her body, lord monk. Nor," she continued calmly as Miroku opened his mouth, "do I wish to intrude on her privacy by speculating. Affection is not limited to physical expression. Kagome is young and attractive. Do you truly believe she has no one who cares for her?"

Miroku hesitated, then shook his head again, slower this time. "It's been nearly a month, Kaede. If she _did_ have someone like that, wouldn't they have come looking for her by now? Wouldn't some sign of her life show up _somewhere_?" He gave a blithe shrug; Shippou yelped in protest as he was jostled into clinging for his perch, but he was ignored. "Besides, InuYasha is here now, and this possible _someone_ is not. If Kagome were to find her affections engaged elsewhere, it would be their own fault for not taking proper care of her in the first place. She _was_ near death, after all."

Kaede's serene posture didn't change. "Yes, she was. Under the most unusual circumstances, too. Given that, it surprises me indeed that you've put aside your reservations."

There was a brief pause, marked by a distinctly thoughtful silence, before Miroku sighed. "I've been monitoring all the usual channels since she arrived, Kaede. I've done extensive searches through every avenue at my disposal and I've found nothing. No reports matching her description, no apparent traces of her anywhere in the area, and no match on her fingerprints from any of the databases that I was able to access. No hint at all of where she might have come from. It's almost as if she were a ghost."

"Is that not suspicious?"

Miroku frowned, then hummed softly. "It could be. It could just mean that she was and is a model citizan. If she'd never done anything wrong, it wouldn't show up in my searches. Considering her personality, I don't find that at all unlikely."

"It could be that someone is deliberately making her look like a ghost." She sounded like she was testing him.

"Or it could be that she was deliberately trying to become one herself," he countered easily. Then he sighed. "If she did come here to harm us in some way, she's doing a poor job of it, isn't she? She's already had ample opportunity to sabotage every single one of us if she desired."

He clamped his jaw shut, allowing a moment for that sobering truth sink in. "Has it occurred to you, Kaede, that she's more like the rest of us than we realize? It's very likely that somebody wants her dead." He paused again, then lifted an eyebrow. "Besides, what do expect her to do? Sit here and wait for a life that may never be returned to her--regardless of whether she wants it back or not?"

Shippou's voice startled them both with its solemnity. "But why would anyone want to hurt Kagome?"

Miroku slanted a serious gaze at the kitsune on his shoulder. "That's the important question, of course." A frown creased his smooth skin as his dark brows pulled low. "And I'm guessing the only way to answer it is to find out who she is. Unfortunately, that's proving a rather difficult task."

Shippou was silent for a moment, mulling over Miroku's words. "But…." A trace of fear had shaded his features, lurking in the depths of his voice. "Won't whoever it was come after her again?"

Miroku hesitated again, a brief glint darkening his gaze. "Killers don't hunt people they think are already dead, Shippou."

Green eyes blinked, then widened with a comprehension that seemed to belie the young face and mixed in with poorly hidden sparks of joy and triumph. "So we _have_ to keep her."

A faint smile flickered across the lips of the older woman still settled comfortably in her chair. "Your reasoning becomes clear at last, eh, monk?"

Miroku's smile managed to be only slightly uneasy, and more than slightly modest. "I am only doing what I believe is best for everyone involved."

"Yourself included?"

The grin widened almost imperceptibly. "Naturally. Did I mention the affect she has on the harsher aspects of our hanyou's nature?"

The older woman sat for a moment in placid silence. "And InuYasha?"

All traces of geniality dropped away from Miroku's expression. "InuYasha most of all. We came here to _live_, Kaede. If he stops now, even after he's free, then everything we did to get here is for nothing. It's time he moved on."

That gave the older woman momentary pause. Sorrow filtered onto her features, drifted into her sigh. "It happened too fast. So much was left unresolved, and now he is trapped with anger and guilt. They are like wounds that refuse to heal."

Anger, a rarity for the Sachi's manager, darkened his face. "Wounds inflicted by someone who claimed to love him."

The wrinkles on Kaede's face deepened into a frown. "There was more between them than you or I understand, Miroku. Remember, InuYasha was not the only one to suffer."

"I know." The anger faded, and he bowed his head, lines bracketing his mouth. "How could I forget?"

Silence descended over the group as they stood, sat and perched in the chill seeping through the living room.

Finally, Miroku sighed and shook off his melancholy. "We can't change the past, Kaede, and it's foolish to let it rule us. It's time for him to stop wallowing in what he couldn't change. Kagome may be able to help InuYasha realize that."

Kaede's serene expression returned, softening the remorse. "You may be right." Then she also sighed and pushed herself to her feet. "Very well. We will see about this strategy of yours." With that, she turned and shuffled towards the door leading out into the reception area. "It is late. I shall retire to the cabin." She paused in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. "Shippou is filthy, Miroku. See that he has a bath before he follows."

Miroku looked startled. "What? Me? But I have work to…." He trailed off as the older woman disappeared from the doorway. After a moment, he gave a long-suffering sigh, then looked at the kitsune still hanging silently from his shoulder, his thoughtful expression taking in everything the two adults had said. "Well, you'd better finish up in here. We still have supplies to bring in from the truck, too."

Shippou nodded and leapt to the floor to return to his task. "I'll hurry," he said, picking up the shovel and the bag. "I have a new trick I want to show you anyway."

Miroku frowned. "No transforming in the bath, Shippou," he reminded the youkai.

Shippou pouted. "Can't I take a bath with Kagome instead? She's more fun than you are."

Miroku sighed again. "No doubt. It _is_ too bad the baths aren't co-ed." He closed his eyes to savor the mental image. "I'm certain we would both have a lovely time bathing with Kagome."

Shippou glared suspiciously at the blissful grin that had swept across his features before shoving another shovel-full of soot into the bag. "On second thought, better not. InuYasha says that it's my job to keep an eye on your perverted hands and make sure they stay away from Kagome when he's not around."

One of Miroku's eyes popped open. "I thought you two weren't on speaking terms."

The auburn head didn't even glance up. "He told me that weeks ago, right after Kagome came to stay with us."

Miroku shook his head mournfully. "You shouldn't listen to InuYasha when he says things like that, Shippou. He's corrupting you."

The kitsune's shoulders bobbed. "That's pretty much what he says about you, too. He says if I listen to half the things you say, I'll end up as perverted an adult as you." Oblivious to the dismayed slump of Miroku's shoulders, he turned to concentrate on the remainder of his task, and all was quiet in the room save for the soft scrape of the shovel clearing out the remaining ashes from the fireplace.

* * *

Warmth always seemed to hover longer in the kitchen than in any other room in the Sachi, a fact that Kagome pondered with absent thankfulness as she waited for InuYasha to decide his next move. Because of her earlier dunking, she'd been fighting off a chill all day, and the thermal atmosphere and lingering remnants of dinner made for a pleasant way to end the evening. The only thing that could have made it better was a steaming cup of tea between her hands, but she was too settled in her chair at the moment to put out the effort it would take to make one.

Another hollow clack echoed through the kitchen as InuYasha moved his bishop closer to her king, then sat back with a faint, challenging smirk. "Check."

Kagome sighed and rested her chin against her knees, lamenting the fact that sitting in one position for so long had caused her backside to go numb--mostly because it meant she would have to move sometime in the near future. Her gray eyes trained on the board and the scattered arrangement of wedged pieces, searching for a way out of her current predicament.

She was losing, of that much she was sure. Not that she really expected to win, or that she really felt bad about not doing so. Practice games such as this one were more about experience than competition anyway; she was learning more in her loss--about both the game and her "opponent"--than a simple win would have taught her anyway.

Besides, she was enjoying herself. InuYasha had, in his own way, taken over for Shippou, and he was proving a challenging teacher. It was all practice and demonstration with InuYasha; he gave her basic clarifications for any moves she didn't understand, but mostly just let her play and deal with the results as they happened. She had to pay close attention to what he did, or she would miss something. To her surprise, she was learning just as much as she did when Miroku verbally walked her through each part of his strategy.

As the game had moved on, he had seemed more and more satisfied with her ability, and even the brief explanations had slowed. Even so, they'd managed to keep up a steady stream of harmless conversation, smattered with the occasional spate of companionable silence. But it was obvious the game was winding down now, and it was getting late. She was probably no more than a few moves away from being checkmated. A curl of wistfulness seeped through her stomach at the thought of their evening coming to an end.

Kagome chewed on her bottom lip, then reached out and tentatively moved her rook forward, hoping to provide her king with a temporary shield and force InuYasha to move a different piece. From the corner of her eyes, she caught the almost imperceptible hint of a smile as the corners of his mouth quirked upward. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling in return, having realized some time ago that he only reacted that way when he thought she'd done something smart. "How long do you think it will take for the bath to be completely fixed?"

His eyes flashed briefly up from the board, but he didn't seem at all fazed by the abrupt question. His attention dropped back to the game and his brows knit in thought for a moment before he shrugged. "A couple weeks, maybe. Miroku will order the pipes we need online and have them shipped out here." He paused, then blew out a breath. "We'll have to shut down the damn bath again while I replace the cracked ones."

Kagome felt her lips twitch at the faint irritation that had crept into his voice, and bowed her head to hide it. The frown that darkened his features was as commonplace at the Sachi as the steady stream of tourists during winter; none of its residents paid any mind to his testiness. She'd grown so used to it in the past few weeks that most of the time it only made her want to giggle. She'd come to the conclusion that his grumbles were less complaint than habitual acceptance anyway. The Sachi's hanyou owner took on his responsibilities like he took on breathing, and carried them out with a matter-of-fact dependability that was almost amusing to watch. It didn't matter what they happened to be, and it didn't matter how surly he was while doing them; he always made sure they got done.

It was something she admired about him.

Oblivious to her smile and her ponderings, he dropped in a bishop that he had taken from her earlier in the game. She sighed, at a momentary loss. He'd been careful to position the piece outside the range of her protective rook, and she knew she was in serious trouble. "Was Miroku the one to teach you how to play shogi, InuYasha?"

He looked surprised. "Teach me? Hell no." Amber eyes skimmed over her features. "I knew how to play shogi a long time before I met Miroku. Where'd you get that idea?"

"Oh." She thought for a moment. "Well…. When we talked about it that first time, it sounded like you hadn't played much before you came to the Sachi. I guess I just assumed…."

The black of his eyebrows quirked upward into an odd look. "Keh. You shouldn't make assumptions," he said gruffly. He nodded in the general direction of her head. "They can get you into trouble, and you've already had enough of that to last you a while."

Self-consciously, her fingers rose to touch on the faint scar disappearing into her hairline. "I suppose…." The wound had healed over nicely, leaving only a faint line to indicate that she'd ever been hurt in the first place. The scar was the only physical remnant of the mystery that had brought her to the Sachi. Some days, she forgot it was even there.

He was right, though; if ever there were a sign of trouble, a gunshot wound to the head would be it. _Trouble, huh?_ Her lips gave a wry twist, not quite a smile, not quite a frown, and she drew in a deep breath, then let it out.

__

If you only knew the half of it.

Her smile faded abruptly. _Wait…. _The breath stuck in her lungs, and her eyes dropped to stare unseeing at the board. _What?_

A shadow of disquiet fell across her mind, and a vaguely grim, nauseous sensation swirled somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers pressed against her lips and she swallowed a gasp at the unexplained flash of anxiety, of suffocation. For just a moment, it felt almost as if she were being…stalked.

Her forehead tensed as she found herself suddenly afraid and trying to shake it off.

What…. What was _that_? It wasn't a memory, of that much she was sure. It was more like a…. Like an insight, maybe? She hadn't meant to think it, and it had been more feeling than anything concrete. She didn't understand _why_, or what it meant, but….

_He doesn't know the half of_ **_what_**, _Kagome_?

….But she had the unsettling feeling that she _should_.

"Kagome?"

His voice startled her and she looked up, blinking hard.

InuYasha was watching her intently, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to decipher a particularly difficult puzzle. He looked almost concerned. Gooseflesh rippled along her skin, and she shivered, her eyes darting a covert glance at him from the cover of her lashes.

He must have caught the telltale tremble, because his standard frown slipped effortlessly back into place. "Hey…. You're not getting sick, are you? You should take it easy. You were in those wet clothes for a while, and the last thing we need going into tourist season is one of us getting sick."

She couldn't help the warm little quirk of her lips at the effortless way the word 'us' slipped past his lips, but she just shook her head, gratefully releasing the oddness of the moment. "I'm fine. Just a little cold." As if to prove her words, she moved her silver general, plunking it down right behind her king, providing an additional range of cover that would be hard for him to get around.

His eyes narrowed skeptically, but after a moment, he just shrugged and turned back to the more productive task of studying the board.

Her smile widened just a bit as she studied the look of concentration on his face. "So…. If it wasn't Miroku, who did teach you how to play?"

"My father." His fingers strummed idly along the table, a short series of dull thuds against the wood. "When I was just a kid."

_Family again_, she thought wistfully as she watched him pluck up another of her captured pieces and turn it absently in his fingers. "That must have been nice."

"Not really." His lip curled slightly. "He made me practice with the asshole."

Kagome blinked, then turned wide eyes on him. "Who?"

He snorted. "The asshole. My half-brother."

_Oh._ She almost rolled her eyes, recalling how he'd referred to his existing family earlier in the bath. "You didn't like that?"

He snorted again. "Are you kidding? That stuck-up bastard hated me from the moment I was born. Not real happy about the whole hanyou thing." He slapped the piece in his hand onto a rectangle with considerably more force than necessary. "I wasn't all that overjoyed by _him_, either."

She winced, then took in the move. A pawn. She frowned, considering both his words and the game. _Half-brother…. Hanyou…. Does that mean his brother is full youkai, or…._ "Is he human?"

His whole body jerked, and he darted a sharp glance at her, his brows twisted up incredulously, as if he couldn't quite believe she'd said that. "Sesshoumaru? _Human_?" He stared at her for a moment. Then his mouth curved, and he gave a clipped, snorting bark of laughter. "He'd rip you in two for even suggesting it."

"Oh…." _Youkai, then. _She tilted her head, trying to understand. "All right…. You two didn't get along. And so…. Your father had you play _games_ with each other?"

InuYasha crossed his arms and sat back against his chair. "He told us we had to learn how to work together."

She blinked at him. "Did you?"

He hesitated for a long moment. "You could say that." His tone was oddly blank. "We…played regularly for years."

She nearly smiled. "Years? You must have gotten along all right if you were able to play games together for that long."

"Keh." His disgruntlement was back. "The only reason I kept playing was so I could _beat_ the bastard." A shrug. "I didn't play with anyone else until I met Miroku."

Kagome shifted in her seat, finally unfolding her legs from beneath her in an effort to restore circulation. Almost idly, she reached out and pushed one of her own pawns forward. "Did you ever beat him?"

He frowned at her move before his lips gave a tiny upward quirk. "Yeah."

She grinned, amused by the gloating tone. "So you played for years and then you just _stopped_? Why? Don't you like shogi?"

"It's fine." His mutter was reserved and distracted. His fingers resumed their intermittent tapping along the table as he glared at the game pieces. "I just didn't know anyone else who played."

Her eyes rested on the restless strum of his fingers for another moment of quiet reflection before she indulged her curiosity once again. "Is that when you and your brother stopped talking?"

She wasn't looking at him directly, but she caught the motion as his dark brows snapped low over his eyes and his jaw clamped tight.

"No." His voice had gone flat, monotone, inhospitable, and she nearly flinched. He pushed another of his pawns forward. "That was more recent."

"Oh." She trailed her fingers along the wooden edge of the shogi board, staring hard at the arrangement of pieces. She knew she wasn't paying as much attention as she should be, but she didn't care. The sense of enigma that sometimes lingered in the Sachi's hallways, that vague, frustrating sense of reserve that wrapped around InuYasha whenever she brought up his past, was far more intriguing than trying to figure out a game that she was only half-sure she knew how to play.

She her teeth grazed the corner of her mouth. "Was…." She hesitated for just a fraction before continuing. "Was he the reason you left Tokyo?"

InuYasha stiffened, and his scowl darkened; his fingers stopped their movements and he didn't look up from the game. He didn't say anything.

After a moment, Kagome sighed and sat forward in her chair, reaching for a random piece. "It feels sad to me--you and your brother, I mean." She traced the sweeping lines of the kanji pattern with a nail. "If I knew I still had family somewhere--" there was that wistfulness again, creeping stealthily into her voice without her permission, "--I think that I'd want to know that they were doing all right, even if we didn't get along very well."

She could almost feel the surprise in his eyes as they lifted to study her. The silence dragged, and, for lack of a better action, she finally moved her only remaining knight in a lame attempt at stalking his king.

Then he gave a soft huff of exasperation. "The asshole's not the reason I left Tokyo," he groused. "But he _is_ why we came _here_." He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, a brief flash of bronzed amber. "I guess _you_ should be grateful. Anyone else wouldn't have found you in that river."

His tetchiness brought a twitch to her lips. "I am grateful." Her grin widened. "I'm _very_ grateful. Maybe I should call him and thank him."

He glared down at their game. "We don't call him. We don't need anything from that bastard." He fell silent, then snorted again. "Besides, it's not like _he's_ the one who actually saved you."

The disgruntlement in the comment was unexpected, and her gaze flew to his profile. Another smile softened her features. "I know," she said quietly. "So I guess I should thank you first."

The faintest hint of a blush colored the skin along the bridge of his nose, and his shoulders rose in a shrug. "Keh."

The corners of her lips turned up a little more as she found herself oddly charmed by his discomfort. Impulsively, she reached out and rested her fingers against the back of his hand to draw his attention. "Thank you, InuYasha," her voice reflected her innate sincerity, "for finding me… and for bringing me here."

His eyes rose, almost as if against his will, to lock with hers for the first time since their encounter in the bath. In the warm tones of the kitchen light, they seemed deep and almost luminescent, a particularly rich shade of gold, laced through with an intensity that struck her. She drew in a breath, air hissing through her teeth; gooseflesh rippled across her skin and she shivered again, smoothing a hand absently along her arm.

His gaze shifted, flitting downward. A displeased frown creased his brow, and he sat forward, reaching out an arm. Then she felt the heat of his palm, pushing her hair back and resting heavy against her forehead. "You _sure_ you're not sick?"

His voice… It was doing that deep-rough thing again.

Her eyes widened, and she felt her pupils dilate with the shock of unexpected contact. Her heart gave an excited leap into her throat and a thrill skittered through her insides, tensing her muscles and stealing her air. "InuYasha…."

For a brief moment--just a spare breath, really--his eyes heated with the fine spark of awareness, and _his_ pupils, with their oddly slit shape, contracted.

He didn't move. She didn't breathe.

Then he blinked, hard and abrupt. He let out an irritated "tch" of dismissal and yanked his hand away from her skin with a mumbled curse. "You're sure as hell _acting_ sick. You should be in bed."

Disappointment charged through her like a tiny static shock. Before she realized what she was doing, Kagome's hands moved to grasp at his retreating one. His eyes widened just a fraction as she enveloped his hand in both of hers. He sucked in a breath, then covered it with a scowl.

"I'm fine," she said. Exhilaration at her own daring had added to the breathy quality of her voice--she hoped he didn't notice. Her fingers tightened around his palm, hyper-aware of the warmth of the skin beneath her own. "Besides, we're still not done with the game."

For a heart-stopping moment, InuYasha didn't react. He just sat there and stared at her, his expression frozen in that scowl. Then, with a start, he was sitting all the way back in his seat, their hands separated. He stared at her for another heartbeat, a strange glint in his eye. "You want to finish the game?"

She nodded, her faint smile returning.

He gave another muted "keh" and straightened in his seat. Using a single claw, he pushed his bishop several spaces along a diagonal line, bringing it perpendicular to her king. "Checkmate."

"What?" She sat upright and placed her hands flat against the table. A few moments of study confirmed that she had no further moves available to her. Her shoulders slumped. "Oh." She sighed and glanced up, offering him a tentative smile. "I guess you won."

He grunted and crossed his arms. "Of course I did. The game is over." He was looking away again, the silver hair of his bangs falling low to shadow his eyes, hiding his expression. "You should get some sleep now. It's been a long day, and more of those damn tourists will be here tomorrow."

For a moment, Kagome couldn't bring herself to respond with more than a non-committal hum. Her eyes drifted over the shogi set and its array of pieces; then, with a deep breath and a surge of energy, she pushed herself to her feet and started gathering up the loose wedges scattered across the tabletop.

The soft clack of tiles sounded lonely in the silence. InuYasha didn't budge from his seat. He didn't say a word as she stored everything away in the box. It was only when she tried to grab the board that he stirred restlessly in his seat.

"Leave it. I'll take care of it."

She hesitated, then slanted him a glance. "InuYasha…."

He still wasn't looking at her; his arms remained crossed, his posture hunched back against his chair, and his tone flat. Her fingers clenched. Maybe she shouldn't have touched him. Maybe she shouldn't have held his hand like that.

_But, well…._

He'd started it; he'd touched her first, right? All she'd done was hold his hand for a few seconds at the most. So why was he suddenly so closed? Why the complete withdrawal? The night had been going so well. They'd been having _fun_. What had she done to….

"Kagome! Are you _deaf_? I _said_--"

"Ooooh!" She slapped the box down onto the now-clear board, and it clattered as the tiles smacked against each other. "I heard you!"

Why did he _always_ do that? Why was it that every single time it felt as if they were…. As if something was….

"Then what the hell are you still standing around like an idiot for?"

She eyed the box on the table and debated chucking the whole thing at his head.

_Stubborn, impulsive, rude…._

She decided that throwing the shogi pieces would only result in her having to pick them back up again. She glared at the game, all neatly stacked and stored as if they'd never played, and then at the hanyou still sitting at odds to her. One of his feet tapped out an impatient rhythm against the floor; his fists were clenched so tightly against his arms that she could see white edging his skin; he appeared to be glaring at the other side of the room.

__

Obnoxious, intractable….

She swallowed around the thick knot in her chest, a build-up of confused and conflicted emotions that had been abruptly left with no place to go. His fault. He'd shut her out with no apparent reason, and now he was treating her like some kind of _enemy_.

_Frustrating…._

Anger bubbled up in her stomach. "I was just trying to help. You don't need to snap at me."

That got her a growl. "I don't need your _help_. Just leave me alone."

Another verbal slap in the face. He did that a lot, too.

_Selfish…._

Her lips compressed into a thin line. Her back straightened on an indrawn sniff. "Fine!"

_Jerk!_

She turned on her heel and stalked out of the kitchen, not stopping until she'd had the extreme satisfaction of slamming the door to her room shut behind her. Then she opened it and slammed it again.

_What is_ **_wrong_** _with him?!_

It was hours of tossing and turning and brooding before she was finally able to drop off into a weary slumber.

* * *

_InuYasha! InuYasha! Wake up!_

The hanyou stirred, griped, then rolled over in the dark. His face pressed into the pillow beneath him and his ears flattened against his head as a war started up between his senses and his subconscious; his subconscious was strongly resistant to his senses yanking him from the deep, dreamless state of sleep he'd fought so hard to get into in the first place.

__

InuYasha! Wake up!

A faint growl rumbled in his throat as he fought to stay within the comfort of darkness. He was beyond tired tonight, completely drained from the day's events. All he wanted was a brief reprieve.

__

Kagome's sick! You have to come!

Against his will, his eyes snapped open. He found himself staring at the edge of his bedding, where the faint paleness of the futon made a stark contrast against the dark tatami weave underneath it.

_What the hell?! Shippou?!_

He jerked upright, his blankets falling silently to pile at his waist, his body on automatic while the more sluggish parts of his mind struggled to catch up. His eyes scanned the deep shadows of his room and his ears pricked for suspicious sounds, searching for the source of the disturbance that had dared to interrupt his slumber.

His brow knit. He gave a few cautious sniffs, testing the air. He had long ago fine-tuned his youkai senses to alert him to approaching danger; years of training and experience had taught him to pick up on the specific feel and smell of approaching maliciousness. A hint of threat always accompanied such a sensation, and he was very good at reacting quickly enough to keep from getting hurt.

He didn't feel any warnings tonight. Everything was silent and calm and harmonious. No distinct sense of danger grated at his instincts, no legitimately out-of-place smells to justify pulling him awake. Not even the random creaks and groans of the Sachi's old structure seemed off. Nothing wrong at all, as far as he could tell.

So why the hell was he awake?

His eyes narrowed.

He was sure he'd heard a voice, and that voice had sounded suspiciously like one very troublesome little fox. But that didn't make any sense, because it wasn't even daylight yet. What the hell would the kid be doing out of bed and back in the Sachi so early? Shippou wouldn't even make the short trip through the dark on his own when everyone else was _awake_--never mind the fact that going outside right now would probably turn his stupid puffy tail to a stupid puffy block of ice.

With a disgusted sigh, he flopped back onto his futon, ignoring the chill of the air against his bare chest.

_Fuck._

He'd only just gotten to sleep, too. He'd been tossing and turning for hours; not even a late-night run had been able to chase away the restlessness. Now he would have to go through the whole dreaming process again to get back into the undisturbed sleep that he craved.

InuYasha hated dreaming. That was the time when the mind was at its most defenseless, its most out of control. That was when even memories you thought you had beaten could sometimes come back to bite you on the ass.

He despised it when that happened. He hated--hated, hated, _hated_--being reminded of the smells and sounds and pain that had been burned so vividly into his brain. He dreaded reliving what could arguably be called the worst night of his life.

Not that it happened all the time, or that it had even happened recently, but still….

He hated dreaming.

This was all Kagome's fault. Because she'd dared to touch him in a way that no one had touched him in so long. Because she'd been so soft and gentle about it, and he couldn't make himself forget it.

He'd sat in that damn kitchen for almost an hour after he'd chased her away. Fuming. Furious. With her. With himself. With his whole damn life.

It _had_ been stupid of him to touch her in the first place, but he'd had a legitimate reason. If she got sick, it would be _his_ fault. _He'd_ allowed her to get into the state she'd been in earlier. He'd tried to stop her from cleaning out the baths, but the damn woman had simply ignored him.

When she hadn't been ordering him around.

A scowl drew his brows low as he let his eyes slip closed once again. She'd been getting awfully brave around him lately, hadn't she? The timidity that had so irritated him during her first few weeks here had evaporated. It seemed she'd grown comfortable with herself and her position within the Sachi; and, while he might (grudgingly) admit that the newfound confidence suited her, it sure as hell wasn't making _his_ life any easier.

He'd been desperate to clear his head somehow, and had settled on a run. The cold air and brisk smells would be bracing enough to occupy his mind. It'd been a while since he'd last gone running at night anyway, and casing the territory around the Sachi was probably a good idea. The few wild youkai that still roamed the more secluded parts of the forest needed to be reminded to keep their distance--and he had definitely needed the distraction. He'd known he would need to be exhausted before he would sleep the way he wanted to anyway.

For all the good it had done.

His scowl grew fierce. Damn the woman. Now she was disturbing his sleep as well as his peace of mind. As if he didn't get precious little enough of both.

He sighed out in frustration--another rumble that passed effortlessly from his throat--and tried to will himself to bypass REM's sleep entirely.

_InuYasha! Kagome needs you!_

"What the _fuck_!" He bolted upright once again, not certain he'd actually heard the voice, or if he was just imagining it. It sure as hell sounded like Shippou, but he couldn't smell….

His ears twitched as he caught the faint sounds of scuffling out in the hallway beyond his door. It was definitely the sound of Shippou scampering…. Maybe. His brows twisted again. _What the hell is the brat doing over here this early in the morning?!_

Frowning, he shoved away his pile of blankets and stumbled to his feet, grimacing at the discomfort of the jeans he'd neglected to shed before falling into bed. Normally he slept in sweatpants that were far less restrictive, but tonight all he'd wanted was a distraction--_any_ distraction--from Kagome's touch in the kitchen. His only ambition coming into his room had been to sleep, long and hard. Too bad it hadn't worked.

_Damn bitch_.

Snagging his shirt from the floor where he'd shucked it earlier, he pulled it over his head as he stepped out into the chilly hallway. His expression boded ill for the kitsune who had dared to interrupt the unconsciousness that he'd worked so hard to achieve, but said kitsune had already disappeared from sight by the time his gaze had raked along the corridor outside his room. His ears twitched at the light patter of fox paws treading down the next hall.

His lip lifted in a snarl, though his voice held only just the volume he figured it needed to reach the kit. "Hey, Shippou, you brat! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

No response, just a faster-sounding series of thumps.

Shaking his head, and muttering under his breath as he considered various possible scenarios to deal with foxes-who-disturbed-sleep, InuYasha followed. His footsteps thudded dully on the icy floorboards, the only other sound as he followed the kit through the Sachi's maze of rooms and passageways.

After a few minutes of walking but not catching up to his prey, InuYasha frowned. "Shippou! Where the hell are you going?" Despite his irritation, he kept his voice quiet, reasonably certain that Shippou would be able to hear him whereas the other humans in the inn wouldn't. When he didn't get an answer, his eyes narrowed and he pulled to an abrupt halt in the middle of a hallway.

His teeth clenched in his mouth, holding in a rolling growl. That damn kit had better not be trying to pull _another_ one of his pranks. Ever since Kagome had turned up the brat had been full of them, big and small, and he wasn't about to let himself become victim to yet another--

_Wait. Didn't he say Kagome was sick?_

He blinked, his face going blank. He _knew_ she'd been acting a strange in the kitchen. He was relatively sure that at least some of it was because of him, but if she was suffering affects from her dousing earlier….

__

Damn. I knew I shouldn't have let her help with cleaning out the bath. All that damp after being hot and cold…. Damn it!

He started forward once again, this time with purpose, treading determinedly from one hallway to the next, not even bothering to notice if he was still following Shippou or not. The pre-dawn morning made the hallways dark, but he didn't have to see where he was going to know where to go. Kagome's scent had become intertwined with the scent of the Sachi, as much a part of the air as the coldness and the trees, or even his own scent, and it only thickened as he neared her room on the opposite side of the inn.

The door leading into the former spare room was shut. He paused just in front of it, his ears canting forward to listen intently for any unusual sounds. He didn't hear anything but the normal cadence of deep sleep coming from beyond the door. No shifting around, so sounds of discomfort or disturbance.

He almost turned around to leave, disgusted with himself and with Shippou--_if_ the kitsune had actually been real and not a figment of his overactive, sleep-deprived imagination. But then he caught the wooden outline of a sign. A sign that had somehow been affixed to the wall next to her door.

He frowned. _A sign? Near Kagome's room?_ He'd never seen one of those ridiculous things in this area of the Sachi. This was where much of the housekeeping equipment was stored; not many people came back here. The sign was completely in kanji, too. His eyes narrowed again as he read the carved characters within the borders of the plaque.

_Sickroom: Highly contagious sick person within._

And, just to be absolutely sure that no one mistook the room, a short wooden arrow underneath the characters pointed the way to Kagome's door.

For several moments he just stood there, blinking in disbelief. He went through another short battle, waging war between the ludicrousness of allowing a sign to push him into anything, and the shard of concern that was prodding at the back of his mind.

He reached up. Scratched impatiently at his forehead with a single claw. Gave a resigned roll of his eyes. Turned back to his housekeeper's room.

Ignoring the twist of warning in his gut, he slid the door open. The female in question lay against the far side of the small room, snuggled comfortably on a nest made up of warm blankets, a thick futon, and a pillow. Being at the very back of the inn, her room had a set of windows on one wall, and the cool glow of pre-dawn was just starting to lighten the panes. When the sun was up at full strength, the light would bath her entire body, surrounding her in warmth and most likely waking her from whatever dreams she was having now.

He didn't want to think about that.

His bare feet carried him into the room, tread silent. Some part of his brain was screaming at him that this was a bad idea. It probably was, but…. He would only stay for a moment. Just long enough to make sure she wasn't getting sick.

Hesitantly, he knelt next to her futon. His eyes studied her supine form and leaned forward, one hand bracing against the soft edge of the futon--making sure to stay a few good, cautious inches away from any part of her body.

She shifted suddenly, startling him, and his gaze shot to her face, straining through the early morning dimness; his eyes traced her sleep-softened features, noting the way the black strands of her hair spread loose and untamed against her pillow. A shallow breath slipped through his throat, and he ran a knuckle across her forehead, careful of his claw. Her lids fluttered, but stayed closed.

Exasperation twisted his features into a scowl. She seemed fine--no sign of a fever. He drew in a deep breath and held it, searching for the sourness that always predicted an illness. Nothing. What the hell had that little brat been talking about anyway?

Of their own volition, his eyes drifted downward, along the even rise and fall of her body. She was mostly hidden beneath her blanket, but he could easily make out the soft curve and points of her breasts. She was wearing a yukata--and probably nothing else. His breath hitched.

_Damn._

Common sense smacked him upside the head with the idiocy, the _wrongness_ of invading her room to watch her sleep--health concern or no. This was something _Miroku_ might do, not _him_. The whole expedition had been stupid, and he needed to go back to bed and try to get some sleep. Now.

He sucked in a sharp breath and started to back away.

He froze as she shifted again, her head angling toward him on the little buckwheat pillow. Her hair slipped from the movement, falling over her face, catching his gaze.

Automatically, his hand reached out, his fingers brushed the strands away.

Her eyes fluttered again, and her lips drew his eyes when they parted to murmur vaguely. Against his will, he watched his fingers drift across her face to brush over their smooth surface. It was what he'd done earlier in the hallway, except this time he lingered, this time he let himself really feel them. They were soft, full; their dry texture made them almost silky to the touch. Her warm, humid breath swamped over the pads of his fingers as they hovered uncertainly, followed quickly by cooler air as she inhaled.

Her eyes slid open and, suddenly, half-moons of gray rested on him with the unfocused, heavy tolerance of slumber. His eyes widened and his heart jumped; he found himself unable to move, to think, to react. But all she did was murmur again, and his ears caught the sound as his name washed softly over his fingertips.

Then her own hand was lifting from its resting place beside her head. In slow motion, it reached for him…. Her fingers brushed across his mouth…. It was the same touch, the same caress he'd just spread across hers….

His nose twitched. Her fingertips carried a slightly different tinge from the rest of her body, but it wasn't at all displeasing. Her scent was clean, with only the faintest hints of the soap and lotion she used for her bath. Whatever she used for her lotion and her shampoo, it was all the same, some pleasant blend of flower and aloe, with a marked _lack_ of heavy perfumes. The fragrance was light, and lingered on her skin like a warm kiss, complementing her own natural scent without overpowering it.

It appealed to him, more than he would ever admit aloud. It enticed him, pulled at him, a mysterious draw that such a simple scent shouldn't possess.

Her fingers were gentle, giving delicate, almost absent strokes. Her eyes hadn't yet come fully open, leading him to the distant conclusion that she was still at least half-asleep. Her lips distracted him for an instant when they curved ever so slightly upward; then her fingers were on his cheek, and she was tugging him down. He watched in fascination, almost disjointed from the action as he followed her lead, as her face got closer.

Then her lips were pressing softly against his.

His eyes widened again. Tiny electric pulses prickled hotly all over his skin, fed by the touch of her mouth. His gut clenched as the air whooshed from his lungs, only to rush back in heavy with her scent. Thick heat shot straight to his groin, and a groan echoed somewhere in his mind as it tried to find an exit in his throat. The thought of pushing her away crossed his mind--somewhere, dimly--but his body ignored it completely.

The pressure lessened as she pulled back, just a tiny movement of her head, just enough so that her lips could part and draw breath against his. She sighed, and her lashes fluttered. Lifted.

Clear eyes. Warm eyes. Soft, gray, drowsy…. _Inviting_ eyes. Bedroom eyes.

They focused, lazily taking in his features before locking with his own; startled awareness jumped through the sensuality. They rounded, and he knew for sure that she'd been unaware of her actions, that it had been some sort of dream-hazed, sleep-induced madness.

Not that he cared.

Kagome gasped, her head falling back the small distance to her pillow. He followed, bending forward on his knees, his arms shifting, bracing against the futon, taking his weight, unwilling to release her to retreat. His head dipped to find her mouth with his own, sealing their lips together while they were still slightly parted.

She froze beneath him, her eyes glazing with shock. He increased the pressure, resting his weight on the free hand that sank into the cushion near her head. His hair fell over his shoulder to tangle with hers. His fingers spread across her cheek, clinging to the soft, fine texture; the pad of his thumb stroked a delicate line along her jaw. He was deliberately gentle, coaxing at her mouth, nudging at her lips to widen them further, angling his head to deepen the kiss when she hesitantly complied.

Tempting her back into the madness.

Her eyelids fluttered once again, then drifted closed. Her body relaxed, and she sighed her acceptance into his mouth. Her other hand came up to clutch at his shirt.

Her lips were still parted, and he desperately wanted to taste her, but held off, reveling instead in the contours of her mouth as it molded to his. The only other way he touched her was with the hand still on her face, holding her in place while his mouth pressed over hers, inviting her to explore, allowing only the occasional gasp to slip through the wet heat sealing them together.

Her fingers were stroking his cheek, curling and uncurling in a strange pulling motion, almost as if she were beckoning him closer. Her hesitation vanished in moments, and then she was pushing back, pressing harder against him in rising enthusiasm. Her nails scratched at him faintly, and he held back a pleased growl as the prospect of them digging into his shoulders or scraping the skin from his back flashed through his mind. Then he felt the moisture of her tongue, probing delicately against the inner edges of his teeth, a flicker of encouragement.

Triumph sliced through him at the timid gesture. He responded immediatly, twining his tongue around hers and sinking fully into the kiss. The muscles in his arm tensed as his body lowered to hover just over hers. She gasped, the warmth of it caught in his mouth and given back to her. Her hand cupped the side of his face, urging him more firmly against her.

His eyes closed. _Finally_, he was tasting her. He hadn't realized until now how much he'd wanted it, how long he'd waited--since almost that first instant of connection in this stupid little room. After ignoring it for so long, the craving was intense.

He didn't question, didn't think more than that--just gave over completely and savored the moment, memorizing her flavor, her feel, the hollows and textures and sharp points of her mouth. Her softness. Her breath caught, and the excited little hitch almost brought a growl of satisfaction to his throat.

Instead, he kissed her harder, pushing her head back into the pillow, searching for more. Her taste lingered against his tongue. Her scent invaded his nostrils, filling his lungs and overwhelming his senses. The only reason he kept breathing at all was so that he could measure the changes in her, use his sense of smell to track her body's response to him.

A rush of hot need spread through him like a wildfire set in his blood, hardening him, making him ache. Aggression built, pushing an energized hum through his veins. His nerve endings were charged, on edge, and his whole body was alert, tuned to the soft contours--more sensed than felt--of the body beneath him.

His fingers tightened on her jaw, yanking firmly to keep them together. Her tongue pushed against his, more insistent, more demanding. Breath he relegated to short gasps, mere annoyance. The press of her mouth became harder--his, more desperate.

The slightly rough texture of his tongue slicked along the roof of her mouth, and he released her for just an instant as his teeth dug into the soft skin of her lower lip, tugging gently. She barely had time to draw in a gasp before he was back, the heat of his mouth searing against hers, the slow patience crumbling to dust in the face of a throbbing, prodding urgency. This time she opened wide, curling her tongue around his, an insistent demand that he not leave her warmth again.

His lip curled, and the growl he'd suppressed before escaped; she let out a low, keening whimper. The sounds were loud in the thick silence of the air around them. They tore through the magnetic pull that had drawn them together, and reality crashed between them like a shock of freezing water.

The kiss broke as he jerked back, eyes flying open to stare down into her stunned ones. Her breathing was as labored as his. Chests heaved, lungs grabbing desperately for air. His hand dragged away from her face; her fingers pulled away from his, and her hand relinquished his shirt. He pushed up with his hand, sitting back onto his knees as she pulled her hips below her, her hands clutching the blanket to her chest.

"Inuyasha…. I-- Y-you--" She faltered for just a moment, voice more breath than sound. "I…. I don't know w-what--"

"Don't." His voice was harsh, and his brows tensed, his features reflecting the tone. "Don't start. It wasn't…" _You_. Damn. He couldn't even say that. Not anymore than he could say it wasn't him. She'd kissed him first, but he….

_He_….

He raked an agitated hand through his hair, oddly infuriated to find it trembling. His control felt tenuous at best. Adrenaline roared through his system, and lust--the thick, aggressive, animalistic kind--had locked every muscle in his body in an iron grip. He wanted to leave, he wanted to turn and run, but his body wouldn't obey him.

_Godsdamn_, but he didn't want to stop. He could see it, almost _feel_ what it would be like to go on. He could almost hear the sounds in her throat, taste the sweat on her body. Feel the blinding rush of ecstasy, the pleasure of being encased in a woman's body. His blood surged through his veins, his damn cock pressing painfully against the confining zipper. His teeth snapped in his mouth with the effort of staying still.

_That's. Not. Helping_!

His hand fisted where it rested against his thigh. He hadn't felt this kind of animalistic desire in years. He was only a few thin layers of rational thought away from pushing her back onto the futon and continuing what they'd started. His body and his brain fought a battle that his brain was only half-convinced it wanted to win. He was barely keeping himself together.

It was ridiculous to be like this after a simple kiss. Hell, he hadn't even really _touched_ her properly! What the hell had possessed him? Why _didn't_ he just get up and leave, get away from her right now?

_ It was a just kiss! A simple, stupid kiss_!

His mind scoffed. _Simple? Do you even know how long you were practically on top of her?_ A glance at the window had him cursing under his breath at how light the sky had become.

"InuYasha?" The huskiness of her whisper raked across his ears, and he nearly jumped. He looked up to find her eyes fixed on him.

She looked incredibly tempting just sitting there, staring back at him with shock-rounded eyes. Everything from her clothes to her hair was mussed from sleep; her mouth was full, glistening and slightly swollen from the attention of his. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly beneath the thin cloth of her yukata.

"Why…." She swallowed, and his eyes traced the ripple in her throat. "Why did you stop?"

_Why did I…. _His eyes widened, and he went still. _Oh shit, oh shit. She didn't just say what I think she said._ But a glance at her face confirmed her confusion, the longing and heat in her eyes. She would let him continue if he wanted. No, she _wanted_ him to continue. If he pushed it, she might even be willing to…. _Oh shit._

Her scent had laced strongly through the air in the small room; the thick, heady spice filled his lungs and messed with his head, clouding his thoughts. He felt stuck, trapped. Unable to move forward, unable to move back--_unable to move from this godsdamned spot_!--as he stared at her through the fragile silence.

"InuYasha?" His silence must have concerned her because she started to lean forward, reaching out a hand.

"Don't!" He jerked backwards, away from her touch, barely noticing the hurt that flashed across her face.

Oh, damn. If he touched her, even once more--just _once_--he'd crumble. He'd lose his reservations--no, he'd _bury_ them; he'd pound them into her body until they were both too exhausted to move. Surrender to this mindless need eating away at his sanity and fuck her senseless.

Five years. It had been five years since he kissed a woman. He was far older than he looked, and no novice, that was for sure, but still…. He'd never reacted like that.

Never.

_Not even with_….

"InuYasha? What's…wrong?"

She was still staring at him, wide eyes darkened to slate in the faint light of early morning, dismay and want trembling in her gaze. Hell, her whole body was trembling, and something about the way she sat, something about her posture and her expression, pulled at him. He was _so close_.

A low growl ripped from his throat, and he shook off the thought before it could go any further. "Just…." Damn, damn, _damn_! His voice--he sounded like a fucking animal.

His mouth twisted in a brief grimace, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably to cover himself. "Just forget it, ok? It was a mistake. It won't happen again."

For a moment, her only response was a few blinks. "A m-mistake?" The tension in her body grew palpable, turning her knuckles white as they tightened on the blanket that offered a laughable protection from his gaze. "But…."

He stared back at her helplessly. That wouldn't work, and he knew it. No way in hell was he going to forget this. Nor did he know how to avoid it in the future. Her taste….her skin….

He wanted to fucking _consume_ her.

Up until now, it had all been dancing and elusive--fleeting thoughts, refuted instincts, and unexplored urges. But passion acknowledged was a hell of a lot harder to ignore than passion concealed, and keeping away from her now would be…difficult. They'd just crossed a line they couldn't uncross, and they both knew it.

She wanted him. He wanted her. Too damn bad it wasn't going to happen.

Because no way in hell was he ever going through that again.

It might have been different if she was a different person. Maybe then he could have kept it neutral--a mutually pleasurable fling, void of anything but physical gratification. Maybe then he might have been able to satisfy the urge, to get her out of his system and be done with it.

"But _why_?"

Her plaintive question jerked him from his thoughts. He focused back on her and instantly regretted it, because all he wanted to do was rip off that damn yukata she had clutched so protectively to her breasts and test--with his lips, mouth, and tongue--if they really were as soft as he thought they were.

"Because…."

He already felt more for her than was healthy. He'd saved her life--which shouldn't really make a difference, because he'd done that before, for others to whom he had no real attachment. But Kagome was different from all the others he'd saved. Where the others all just kind of blurred in his memory, she stood out sharply. She made everything just a little more interesting…more alive, maybe.

He wouldn't be able to keep a relationship with her strictly physical.

It would be the same.

Panic laced through him, cutting through the lust swamping his senses. The struggle he'd been having with his own body ended, and he surged to his feet, uncaring whether she noticed the blatant affect she had on him or not. All he wanted to do was get away from her before he did something really stupid. "Because I'm your boss," he bit out tersely, as if that explained everything. "You're my employee. We work together."

"But… What does that matter?" Her eyes, even in the dim light, were filled with confusion. "You…. You wanted to. I know you did. I did too. It--" Color flushed her cheeks, evident in the way her skin darkened. "It was nice."

_Nice_?! He nearly snorted. "It was _stupid_."

She started. He saw her whole body jump, and her head reared back a bit as if she'd been slapped. For a long moment, she sat stock-still, staring at him with disbelief and tiny shards of hurt that hung in her eyes and stung to look at. Silence became a thick wrap in the early darkness, muffled and suffocating as it awaited her response.

"I don't understand. Why did you--"

"I told you. I made a mistake."

"I heard you the first time you said that! Rrrgh!"

His eyes widened, then abruptly flattened into a scowl. Had the bitchjust _growled_ at _him_?

She shifted around restlessly for a moment, then her fist made a soft 'whumping' sound as it hit the blanket by her hip. "What is… What is _wrong_ with you?!"

Uh-oh. Now she was glaring at him.

"You come into my room in the middle of the night--"

Technically morning, but it probably wasn't the best time to tell her that.

"--For gods only knows what reason, and wake me up by _kissing_ me--"

He cringed. _Wait a sec_--"You kissed me first!"

"I was _asleep_! For all I know I was kissing a…a…" She floundered. "A fish!"

He nearly choked on his own breath, sputtering in a moment of silent fury. "_A fish_!" Where the _fuck_ had she pulled_ that_ from?! He wasn't anything like a fucking _fish! _"Like hell were you kissing a fucking _fish_! You said my _name_!" She had. She'd murmured it into the air just before she'd pulled him on top of her.

That stopped her tirade for a second. Her cheeks went from a dull flush to a darker shade that was clearly visible even through the dim, and she shrank back for just a second. "I…. I did?"

"Keh! You--"

She shook her head, hair flying wildly. "It doesn't matter! The point is you can't just do something like that and then pretend it didn't happen!"

"Like hell I can't! I already told you to forget it, so--"

"Ooooh!"

He ducked just in time to avoid the pillow that came flying at his head through the darkness. "Hey! What the hell do you think you're--"

"You _arrogant_, _selfish_, _frustrating_…."

And then she was right there, standing in front of him in the dark. How he'd missed her scramble off her futon, he wasn't sure. But there she was, less than an arm's length away, blanket gone, chest heaving, gray eyes fiery as she jabbed a finger in his chest. "You!" Poke. "_Wanted_…." Poke. "To kiss me." Poke, poke. "Admit it!" Poke, poke, poke.

A growl escaped his throat. _Damn…infuriating…persistent… Bitch._

He grabbed that damned annoying hand of hers and held it away from his chest, tugging her just a little closer in the process so he could lean down and glare at her properly. She didn't so much as flinch at his invasion of her personal space, didn't back down one iota. In fact, her chin lifted a little higher.

_Admit it_? Like hell he would.

"It…was…a…mistake." He gritted out the words through clenched teeth. "Got it?!"

The delicate arches of her brows scrunched in a little more over her eyes, giving her forehead a funny little wrinkle as she glared back.

"I didn't mean it. I was off guard and--"

Her chest was still heaving, and every time she inhaled he could feel her breasts brush the air just shy of his chest.

"And…"

He could feel the anger and frustration in his own gut, twisting and churning and knotting. He could feel the back of his teeth as they ground together. He could feel his ears twitching, alert and energized as they took in the sounds of harsh breathing. He could feel her hand in his, warm and small and tense and… warm.

"It won't--"

They were practically nose-to-nose. How the hell had they gotten so close?

"--happen again, and…."

He almost feel her breath against his lips. He saw her eyes flicker with surprise, then soften. He felt her hand relax in his grip.

"And…."

And oh hell, oh hell, oh hell. If he didn't get away from her now, he was going to do it again. He inhaled sharply and stepped back, dropping her hand as he turned his back to her and headed for the open door, his glare fixed on the hapless wood of the hallway. "Just forget it happened."

He heard her gasp. "But--"

He grabbed the door and slid it shut with a loud thud behind him, cutting off words that he was sure he didn't want to hear. Then he made his way quickly back to his own room, where he was fairly sure he wouldn't be getting any more sleep any time soon.

* * *

A/N: Quill here, alive and well. Well, alive, anyway. My sincerest apologies to those who have been waiting on an update for this thing. I've had the worst time with this chapter --probably because it was the "first kiss" thing, and the OCD perfectionist in me kept telling me it wasn't right. And I did so want it to be _right_, you know? I have such a hard time getting things _right_ sometimes.

Anyway, after much scrapping and re-writing (and I do mean much), I have finally got something I find halfway acceptable. All and every feedback is much welcome, as are questions and concerns. Thanks to everyone who has been so patient in waiting and keeping interest. You mean so much to me.

Cheers and blessings and all of the above,

Quill


	13. Blackout

I disclaim InuYasha and all his friends. Rumiko Takahashi has him all, and I don't really have him tied up under my bed. Seriously. Girl Scout's honor.

Please just enjoy my offering of adoration for all that it's worth.

Psst: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

* * *

**CHAPTER 12**

* * *

The water stopped that morning. Again.

The sharp edge of the cabinet dug into the small of his back and InuYasha shifted uncomfortably, grumbling and swearing as he attempted to unscrew one pipe from another in the twisted confusion of PVC and metal underneath the sink. It just had to be the damn pipes, didn't it? He wasn't a fucking plumber, but it seemed the only thing he did these days was mess with pipes and the water that ran through them -- or didn't, as was the problem that usually took up his time.

He'd have preferred to deal with the wiring. Their first year here, he'd done almost nothing but screw around with lights and electricity that hadn't wanted to work right within the Sachi's decades-old walls. Five years later -- and more replaced wires, internal connectors, and near fatal electrical bungles than he would ever own up to -- at least he felt comfortable with _that_ problem. It figured the old place would decide to throw something new at him after all this time.

Today's problem area was the kitchen. Kagome and Kaede hadn't even finished the morning dishes before the water pressure had decided to drizzle down to almost nothing. Which meant he'd had to abandon his roof-repairing job (they had a leak somewhere near one of the storage rooms), because running water took precedence. So he'd grabbed his tools and spread out in the kitchen with that damn plumbing book. And here he was, early afternoon, a good portion of his day wasted, and he still hadn't gotten anywhere with the fucking pipes.

He grimaced as the wrench in his hand scraped a bone-wrinkling screech against the metal. A fine curl of shaving hit his nose, and he found himself staring at a groove tracked beneath the wrench, and the pipe unmoved. He swore again, louder this time, and beat back the urge to just break the fucking thing in half.

_Damn rusty old bastard of a house. Fucking outdated construction_.

As if he didn't have enough to deal with these days. With the suffocating atmosphere distracting him at every turn lately, he hadn't been very successful at concentrating on anything anyway.

His teeth ground together and he glared at the pipe.

Kagome was displeased. No, she was downright pissed -- at him -- and had been for the past two days. She hadn't said more than two words to him since the night he'd bolted from her room, and the few times she had, it was with a chill that made the outside temperatures at night seem warm. Unfortunately, it wasn't just him she'd aimed at; she was taking her displeasure out on anyone who came near her. Meal-times had become strained, the staff in general uncomfortable, and the light, airy sense of joy within the Sachi had darkened to a stuffy, unpleasant mood that permeated the very walls.

Miroku and Shippou had figured out it was his fault, though he seriously doubted they knew why. They kept sending him dirty looks that rivaled Kagome's cold food and infuriated tone. Kaede, that old bitch, didn't seem to have an opinion about the current situation beyond the amusement that warmed her face every time Kagome gave him the cold shoulder. The monk and the kit kept trying to placate her, but suave words and cheerfully demonstrated tricks didn't seem to help her mood any. They even kept trying to force _him_ into the same room with her -- as if that would miraculously cure whatever had gone wrong -- but he was damned if he was going to willingly subject himself to Kagome's displeasure.

That was why, when Kagome had first knocked on his door this morning and stiffly informed him of their problem in the kitchen, he hadn't really believed her; he'd thought it was another one of those schemers' tricks and balked. _That_ had gone over well in appeasing her frosty demeanor.

When he'd finally figured out that the emergency was real and joined her in the kitchen, her reaction to his presence had been filled with simmering emotion -- none of it the good kind. She'd finished what chores she could do in a flurry of banging dishes and slamming cabinet doors before she'd abandoned him to endure his task alone.

At least she was gone now, not that it was doing him any good when he couldn't get his mind off her. Off the way she'd been acting around him. Off the way it made him feel.

He scowled and banged at metal in frustration, this time _hoping_ to break it. At least broken pipes meant another trip back into town. Breaking the damn things meant getting out of this fucking atmosphere.

Everyone acted as if he didn't care, as if it didn't affect him at all whenever she pretended he didn't exist even though he was in the same damn room with her. That it didn't bug the hell out of him when she stiffened and clammed up whenever he came within visual distance. That he didn't find himself cocking an ear for her footsteps in the hall, or wishing she'd show up unexpectedly at random moments during the day. Everyone thought he didn't _care_ that she was avoiding him, and they felt perfectly justified in heaping loads of blame on his shoulders.

He was fucking miserable. Wasn't that enough?

He didn't _like_ it that she was mad at him -- in fact, he _hated_ it, and he'd been living with that hate since the morning after his disastrous visit to her room, when she wouldn't even look at him over the breakfast table. What an uncomfortable revelation that had been: he'd let himself grow attached to her cheerful smile and annoyingly chirpy manner without even realizing it. Now that he was being deprived of it, he was unhappier than he cared to admit even to himself. He wanted her to smile again; he wanted to pick at her temper just to see if he could get her eyes to spark; he wanted her to look at him as if he could do anything she asked him to do. He wanted things to go back to the way they had been before he'd fucked up.

If Miroku found out, he'd never hear the end of it. He glared, sightless and unmoving, at the recalcitrant piping above his face.

It was his own damn fault. If he hadn't still been half-asleep, he never would have gone so near her. If he hadn't been so distracted, he never would have touched her. If he wasn't a complete idiot, he _never_ would have kissed her. _Tasted_ her. But he had been and was all of those things, and now he was paying for it with his own special kind of hell -- because not only was his life miserable now, but he wanted to do it again. So damn bad that he _ached_ when he thought about it.

"All right, what did you do?"

InuYasha gave a start as Miroku's annoyed voice echoed through the kitchen, unsure if he was irritated more by the fact that he hadn't noticed the other man's approach, or the by the brusqueness of his friend's tone as he asked the question. Not liking either possibility, he simply scowled and continued what he was doing. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"What did you do to Kagome?"

His scowl blackened, and his fingers tightened around the wrench. "What makes you think I did anything to her?"

Miroku poked at him with his foot, sounding positively unfriendly. "She's been glaring death at you for two days, that's why. And none of the rest of us did anything that might have offended her. I want to know what she's angry about so that we can fix it. Kagome's upset has been very unpleasant for everyone."

His lip curled. "I didn't do anything." _Nothing that's any of your business, anyway_. "Maybe the bitch just gets angry for no reason."

"I doubt it. Her temperament isn't that similar to yours."

That deserved nothing but the scoff he gave it as he returned his attention to the pipe in front of him.

"Did you kiss her?"

Some part of his brain tried to warn him not to react to that, but the rest of him didn't get the message until it was too late. His head snapped up, his attention flying completely from what he was doing. "WHAT?!" The wrench in his hand slipped from the piping, and the heavy tool smacked into his bracing hand. He cursed viciously and shook the abused fingers.

Miroku eyed him without pity. "If you kissed her without her permission--"

He nearly choked on his pain, shooting to his feet. "Hey! _She_ kissed _me_!"

Miroku's face took on a look of pure skepticism. "Are you telling me you didn't want her to?" He paused. "Because I have to say, lying isn't really your strongest skill."

"Keh!" Far too dangerous a question for him to respond in any other way.

"Didn't you…. Are you trying to tell me that you didn't kiss her back? Because once again, I'd have to say that --"

"Of course I did, moron! That's not why she's so --" He clamped his jaw shut with a click of his teeth, silently berating himself for falling into the trap so easily. Blood rushed through his head.

Satisfaction swept across Miroku's features. "Well then, since you both obviously wanted what happened…. What did you do to make her angry?"

His teeth clenched. "I took it back."

His words hung in the air for a few seconds while Miroku absorbed them. Then his violet eyes widened and his brows shot up to meet his hair. "You _took it back_?" He blinked a few times, and then, "You took back the fact that you _kissed her_?"

InuYasha sighed, flexing his hand to stretch the soreness. "It's not a good idea. She's --"

WHAP!

He stopped more out of shock than pain, and rubbed at the sore spot on the back of his head; Miroku was rarely violent. He glared at the monk's fist. "What the hell did you --?"

"You are such a _moron_ when it comes to women; it amazes me you're not still a virgin." Miroku's irritation sat even plainer on his face than it did in his voice. "Serial monogamist my ass."

"_Wha_ --"

"You don't ever take a kiss back from a woman. You get _her_ to take it back if you absolutely must, but _you_ never go back on it -- especially not if she cooks your food!" He blew out a breath and the air ruffled the bangs against his forehead. "Damn idiot. Now she's taking your stupidity out on all of us." He fell quiet for a moment, then shook his head. "You're going to have to apologize."

"Like hell I will!"

"Even the customers are starting to notice how strained everything is around here. Like it or not, Kagome is as much a part of our lives now as anyone, and you can't just expect her being upset not to affect the rest of us. You destroyed our peace --"

"_I _did?! _She's_ the one --_"_

"-- now you fix it. Grovel if you have to. Fuck her if you have to. I don't care what you do. Just _do it_."

That particular suggestion, from a normally pleasant and unprofane Miroku shocked InuYasha stupid, and his barely-formed protest whooshed out of him in one breath. Miroku's words squirmed into his head like a suggestive snake, provoking thoughts of rich scents, the taste of bare skin and sweat, and the slow vibrations of pleasured moans throbbing into his ears. The warm, liquid laxness of absolute relief hitting his body in a rush. The mere possibility…. His gut clenched, hard, and the claws of one hand dug into his thigh, cutting tiny slits into his jeans.

He averted his eyes and snarled with fury. _Damn_ the lecherous bastard for even mentioning it. Five years, and he'd never had a problem with his self-imposed celibacy, but now…. It had been hitting him at the oddest times of the day: a deep, instinctual urge to rut, a gnawing need to find the woman who'd been avoiding him and finish what they'd started in her room. It was a dangerous distraction, an added thorn of suffering. He hadn't allowed himself to even think about sex for years, but now he could hardly think about anything else. And all it had taken was one kiss.

Miroku ignored him, and his eyes gleamed with warning. "You have to make peace with Kagome, InuYasha. I will not have our customers spreading rumors of unpleasantness to other potential customers. We have enough problems covering our expenses with the inn as it is. People around here will notice that we're still operating after a bad year, and they'll start asking questions. They'll start looking at us as something more than a curiosity that brings in business. Do you really want that kind of scrutiny?"

And if that didn't put things back into perspective, nothing else would. He let the frustration out in another growl, and collapsed back onto the floor, slamming his fist into the open cabinet door; the force of the blow made it bounce. "Shit."

He swiped a hand down his face. Miroku was right, damn it. They couldn't afford anyone looking too hard. Even if some stranger didn't know what they were looking for, they could trip over something dangerous -- and that could mean the end of everything here. His peace, and the relative peace of the ones who'd come with him, would vanish. Again. And this time, maybe their lives would go along with it.

Just what the hell was he supposed to do? Grovel? Like hell he would. He clamped down hard around Miroku's other suggestion, pushing it to the back of his brain in a desperate bid to ignore that as an option, and wondered what the hell else he could try.

Miroku kept his hard stare for a long moment before his features softened. He sighed and relaxed, turning so his back rested against the counter next to InuYasha. He slid down the cabinets and folded to sit cross-legged beside him. "Kagome has managed to become quite the influence around here, hasn't she?"

He grunted and let his head thunk back against the edge of counter. His elbow rested against his bent knee, and he glared at the wrench in his hand as it came to rest against his thigh. "She's making the whole place a damn misery to be around."

The whole place…especially him.

_Leaving her subtle scent everywhere to drive him insane. Walking around with a body that made his mouth water. The very thought of her made him want to lick something soft and damp and elementally feminine_.

He swallowed a growl, hard, then bit down on his tongue, trying to ground himself. Damn, he was really losing it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miroku quirk an eyebrow. The stupid bastard didn't miss anything. "Unquestionably. I just find it interesting that she hasn't even been here a month, and she's already so capable of disrupting us all." He hesitated, then muttered, "Last time was different."

An involuntary start ran like a current through his body, jerking him out of the wayward sex-obsession better than any pain could; a sneer nipped at his mouth. "The last time _what_?"

Miroku drew a deep breath and physically braced himself. "With _her_, InuYasha. With you. It was different between you; she wasn't so involved in our lives, or even interested. Kagome is different."

His grip tightened so hard around the wrench that he thought he might never be able to let go. "I _know_ that. That has nothing to do with this."

Miroku was quiet for a bit longer, his silence considering. "If that has nothing to do with this, then why are you running away from something you obviously want?"

The growl ripped from his throat without his permission, and the snarl in his voice reeked of danger. "It's none of your fucking business what I do with my body or why, you damn bouzu."

Miroku winced, then sighed. His tone grew rueful. "I suppose you're right." It was his truce, his sign that he was letting it drop -- for now. "You _will_ do something about our current situation, though."

He struggled against the urge to tell his best friend to go fuck himself. Considering how Miroku usually responded to that particular suggestion, it wouldn't be worth the mental aggravation anyway. "I heard you," he said instead, low and volatile.

Miroku nodded. "Good." Amusement threaded his voice, warmed the cautiousness in his scent. "Because I, for one, really can't stomach too many more angry meals. I've gotten used to much better quality food, and I don't appreciate the change."

He blinked, then snorted back a wayward chuckle as he felt his shoulders release the tension that had held them so tight. The food for that past couple of days _had_ been awful: cold, over-spiced, flavored with a hint of burn. It seemed Kagome's cooking skills degenerated with her mood.

They fell quiet, the air between them comfortable.

Miroku stirred, slanting a glance at him. "About the other night…. You noticed it, right? About Shippou?"

His brows tensed in thought as he followed the change in subject. "Yeah. He was playing shogi."

It had been what had drawn him into the kitchen in the first place. Shippou, touching and moving the pieces as if it were…. Just some game to play. Not a symbol of his family, not a reminder of what had happened. No recoil. No tears. No withdrawing off onto his own. When InuYasha had walked by the kitchen that night to see the two of them playing, he'd nearly goggled in shock to see the kitsune sitting on the table with a tile in his hand. The kid'd pushed pieces across the board as if it were the most natural, unremarkable thing in the world to him, his face animated and engaged as he chattered away to a smiling Kagome. In the past five years, he'd never once known the kit to touch a piece of that particular game without flinching or tearing up; but now, suddenly, for some reason….

InuYasha sighed, faintly irritated again and not sure why. "Maybe he's finally getting over it."

The deep violet of Miroku's gaze seemed complacent as he scanned the area around them, a tiny, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Kagome seems to have that effect, doesn't she?" Another slanted glance. "She got you to take off that hat."

InuYasha waited for him to continue, then scowled when he didn't. "Keh." It wasn't like Miroku to state the _obvious_ as if it were obvious. He usually preferred to state the _unobvious_ as if it were obvious. "You got a point to go along with that?"

Miroku shrugged, then said quietly. "Maybe Shippou's not the only one getting over things."

InuYasha didn't respond, not even a twitch of muscle in acknowledgement of the statement. He didn't want to give the monk any indication that he might be right, whether it was true or not. Never mind the fact that he'd been happier and more contented in the past few weeks than he'd been in the past five years -- he'd also been the most uncomfortable and unsettled that he could remember being in…decades.

Miroku sighed then got to his feet and turned to stare down at him as he spoke. "It's not a bad thing, you know. Moving on means we haven't let that bastard ruin our lives." He raised his hand in front of his face. "I don't know about you, but I refuse to let him win."

InuYasha darted a quick glance at him from the corner of his eyes, then looked away, his hand curling into a fist against his thigh, catching on the holes he'd previously sliced into them.

Miroku shoved his fists into his pockets and his feet sounded dull and light against the floorboards, then paused in the doorway. He slanted a glance over his shoulder. "Due to the circumstances in here, the ladies have decided to serve a cold lunch in the dining room in about thirty minutes. I assume you've made some progress with our water problem?"

He blinked, then scowled. "Something's blocking the pipe. I'll get it before dinner."

Miroku nodded. "Looks like the sun will set in the next few hours, and we're scheduled for some nasty weather tonight, so don't push it too long." An odd smile twisted his mouth. "Will you be joining us for dinner this evening?"

InuYasha hesitated. "The sun? Dinner?" He didn't stand, but twisted to look up at the sunlight steaming through the curtains above the sink. A shocked zing of realization had him blinking again and swearing under his breath; he hadn't forgotten, exactly, but he hadn't considered it in the midst of all the other shit he'd been wading through for the past few days.

_Kagome_.

A band of apprehension wrapped around his gut at the thought, and his mouth straightened into a grim line. Damn that woman for making his life so complicated. He shook his head and worked his way back under the sink so that he didn't have to see Miroku's piercing eyes fixed on him. "I'm not hungry. Eat without me tonight."

Miroku didn't like that answer, he could tell by the disapproving silence. But his friend sighed. "She's here to stay. She'll find out eventually."

InuYasha only clamped his jaw tight and jammed the wrench back onto the pipe.

Miroku drew another breath, and his voice sounded fainter as his feet resumed thudding down the hall. "Your choice. Remember -- it's going to get bad tonight, so be careful. See you tomorrow."

* * *

Kagome slammed her way into her room and turned her glare on the neatly folded futon and blankets stacked in the far corner. Just one more chore to do before she could go to sleep.

Outside, the wind gave a faint howl, and the conditions continued to worsen. They'd been expecting a blizzard tonight, so everyone had retired early in preparation. The various couple groups making up their guest list had bundled into their rooms for some cozy alone time, Shippou and Kaede had headed for the cabin just after the snow started falling at dusk, and Miroku had vanished off on his own to do some paperwork. The irrational grump who called himself the Sachi's owner had been nowhere to be seen for hours now. That, of course, had left Kagome alone to finish up all the late-night chores.

With a huff, she walked over and started pulling the cushion out.

It'd taken her until nearly midnight to finish cleaning the kitchen, thanks to InuYasha and his dawdling over whatever had been stopping the sink. First, he'd had the audacity not to believe her when she told him about it, then he'd taken over her kitchen for the majority of the day -- and since she was still furious with him, she'd been forced to stay away from her own kitchen. It had been near sunset before he'd emerged, looking perplexed, tired, and cranky, to tell her in a short, stiff tone that he'd have to work on it some more tomorrow.

"I can't figure out what's blocking it. It's like nothing's there."

She'd stared at him in disbelief as he'd grabbed a quick sandwich from the fridge. "What am I supposed to do about dinner? We have eight people to feed besides ourselves."

He'd shrugged and gestured to the meat-and-cheese in his hands. "Feed 'em this stuff." Then he'd disappeared down the hall, leaving a mess in her kitchen, and her with no water to cook dinner for their guests.

Kagome huffed again, using far more force than necessary to shake out her blankets.

She'd been forced to call Shippou away from the guests, ready to have him run water to her from other parts of the inn so she could make the soup. But what had happened when she had, in a fit of frustration, tried running the tap? Water, -- _a healthy, rushing stream of it _-- right there in her sink. As if it had never stopped!

"_Liar_," she muttered, slamming her pillow onto the newly made bed. She turned and started stripping out of her clothes, tossing them into a pile near the wall. "Jerk. Idiot." It had taken her two hours longer than normal to clean the kitchen, thanks to all the scuffmarks on the floor and extra dishes left over from lunch. "Moron. Inconsiderate jackass."

Was the prank really necessary? Hadn't he done enough damage to her ego when he'd run from her room two nights ago? For heaven's sake, he'd acted as if kissing her would land him an infectious disease!

She stopped halfway through putting on the shirt -- _his shirt, the one they'd put on her when they first found her_ -- that she usually wore to bed and gave it a wounded look before tossing it into the pile of dirty clothes near the wall. She took the two steps over to her tiny closet and grabbed a simple, floral-patterned kimono robe instead.

She didn't understand him at all. _He_ was the one who'd shown up without warning in her room in the middle of the night. _He_ was the one who'd been kissing _her_. And it had been such an incredible kiss. His mouth was more an experience than actual taste: all rough tongue and slick movements, warm breath with hints of something that felt smooth and earthy and essentially male. And gods, she wanted to experience that again -- her body kept reminding her of it, plagued as it was by this odd restlessness he inspired.

Why had he taken it away? What was he so afraid of? Kagome wasn't stupid enough to think that he hadn't _wanted_ to kiss her. She'd felt it in his touch, seen it in his body; nothing had been as obvious as the raw desire that had thickened the air in the tiny room around them. She also knew that just because the body wanted something the mind didn't necessarily agree, but….

She couldn't believe he'd tried to take it back -- and worse, tried to pretend that it wasn't there at all. InuYasha felt that strange, magnetic pull between them; he was just as affected by it as she was. She knew it because of the baffled, frustrated looks he gave her whenever they inadvertently ended up in the same room; she knew it because of the way he twitched or jumped if she got too close to him. He just refused to acknowledge it.

Sometimes, she wanted to strangle his stubborn neck.

_Why_? It didn't make sense to her that he would start something so intense and…_right_…and then deny it. She tucked the last bits of heavy flannel around herself and slumped to her knees on the futon cushion, feeling dejected and weary. What was it about her that sent him running? And what was up with the dirty trick with the water? Talk about heaping insult onto insult.

The wind outside picked up volume, and snow thumped against her window, making her jump. A nearly inaudible whine echoed through the walls, and the light died.

Kagome sucked in a breath and sat up straight, blinking into the abrupt cloak of darkness as she waited for her eyes to adjust. The only light filtering into the room was from what little unmolested sky still existed outside -- almost nothing, considering how low and heavy the clouds had been for most of the evening.

Her brow furrowed. It was late, and as far as she knew, she was the only one still awake. So did that mean she should just ignore it and go to bed, or should she go out and see if she could do something about the lack of electricity? What about the heating? Miroku had been very clear to everyone during dinner -- at which InuYasha had been noticeably absent, the jerk -- about the dangers of not keeping warm during the kind of freezing temperatures they would have tonight. They'd spent considerable time earlier in the day preparing the guests and making sure every occupied room had a surfeit of blankets and a small heater.

After a moment of thought, she sighed and crept across the floor, carefully feeling out the house slippers she'd left by the door. It was probably best to do something now if something could be done, and she thought she remembered InuYasha saying something once about a breaker with switches for the different parts of the Sachi. Maybe if she found that, she could jiggle something around until it worked. The worst she could do was try.

* * *

Three turns and four hallways later, Kagome was convinced that she wasn't anywhere near the kitchen, or the flashlight she was positive she'd seen in one of the drawers. She drew to a halt and frowned at the wood beneath her palm. The darkness in the hallway was even thicker and more oppressive than it had been in her room, so she'd been using the wall and memory for guidance. Too bad it seemed neither had worked.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she wondered what to do now. Since she hadn't hit the entrance to the kitchen like she'd thought she would, should she turn around and try to find her way back? The only problem with that was she wasn't sure where she was _now_, which was a bad enough deal in a normal place, but this was the _Sachi_. What if she walked right into a guest's room?

She blushed furiously at the very thought. Because of the story surrounding it, the reason most people came to the Sachi had very little to do with family-friendly activities. Walking in on something like _that_ was not on her list of things to do before she died.

At a loss for any other action, she decided to follow the wall for a little while longer. After blindly groping her way a bit further, sounds reached her ears. She paused, her brows knitting together with curiosity.

Soft rustling of what sounded like cloth. The harder thud of solid object hitting solid object. The light scraping of metal on metal. More rustling, combined with a muted curse. All coming from somewhere in front of her.

Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, and her mind wavered between wondering if she'd reached the kitchen after all and someone had beaten her there, or if she'd inadvertently stumbled in on a guest bedroom and should turn and head in the opposite direction.

Another curse, this one louder, reached her and she blinked in surprise at the familiar voice. InuYasha? Had he decided to emerge from hiding? Except -- wait; was something off about his voice? It didn't sound quite…right.

Without conscious decision, her feet moved her forward, her hand sliding along the wall panels until they hit the slight rise of a doorframe. Her fingers curled around the edge -- the door was open -- and she hesitated, trying unsuccessfully to peer through the pitch-black interior.

The movement from the room beyond suddenly stopped. A faint, repetitive clicking echoed into the stillness a few times. A groan, followed by muttering. "Fucking stupid batteries." The soft, dull thuds of footsteps on the tatami, heading her way.

Kagome sucked in a breath, opening her mouth to warn him, but the hard warmth of a body collided with hers before she could get the words from her brain to her mouth. She stumbled backwards at the impact teetering dangerously without her sight to help orient her. He cursed again, a vicious, angry sound, and his hands clamped around her upper arms and slammed her body back into the wall. Her head knocked hard against the wood and whatever breath she'd retained at the first impact whooshed out of her at the second. For a moment of complete shock, her lungs struggled to pull in air.

Either he didn't notice or he didn't care. His body crowded in close, hot and immovable and hovering just beyond actual touch, to keep her penned against the wall; one of his hands moved up to her the junction of her shoulder and neck, and his fingertips pressed dull pain through the thick material of her robe. Over the collar, two of his fingers dug into her flesh. She winced.

"Who the fuck are you and why are you here?"

His voice was low and dangerous, and his breath brushed tingling heat against her cheek. She blinked in disbelief at him through the pitch black, hyper-aware of him and angry because of it. "InuYasha, let go! You're hurting me!"

His grip loosened immediately. His fingers stopped causing pain, but they didn't move. Instead, they just rested there, a soft, tantalizing patch of skin on skin. "Kagome?"

"You were expecting Kaede?" She felt him flinch and take a step back at her sarcasm. But his grip on her shoulder stayed put, burning into her awareness. "What is wrong with you?"

"Shit. Oh, shit." He sounded shaken. Finally, his hands pulled away from her body, and she bit her lip to stifle a spurt of disappointment. She heard the brief shuffing sound of clothes as his body shifted in agitation. "I didn't mean -- You can't just walk around without --" His voice dropped low. "Damn. Are you okay? I didn't…hurt you, did I?"

His obvious remorse surprised her; it also softened her as nothing else could. She could feel the tension and upset seeping out of her muscles. Barely breathing, she shook her head. It took her another moment before she realized that he couldn't see her. "No, you didn't hurt me." Her volume was nearly as quiet as his. Despite herself, she sought to reassure him. "I'm all right, InuYasha."

Her words drifted into the settled silence to meet the quiet sincerity of his, and they hovered in the air between them, close and intimate. Kagome drew in a slow, steadying breath. InuYasha didn't move. Neither of them spoke.

Kagome licked her lips. "Why are you so jumpy?"

He body gave light jerk, then tensed again; he was still close enough that she could feel it, even in the thick darkness. "I'm not -- What the hell are you doing here, anyway? This is my room."

"_Your_ room?" But his room was on the opposite side of the Sachi, much farther away from her room than the kitchen. She rolled her eyes, then sighed. "I was trying to get to the kitchen. I can't see a thing with all the lights out."

He took another step back, and she couldn't quite feel him any more -- another spurt of disappointment. "Shit. Damn this old place. Hold on for a sec. Don't move from that spot."

Kagome nodded, still wondering idly what it was that sounded so strange about his voice, and listened to the light thud of his footsteps as he moved down the hallway. She heard the sound of a door opening, and more things being shifted around. She thought about it for a minute, and realized he must be going through the spare closet. It was the only other door in the hallway near his.

According to Miroku, the room InuYasha occupied had been the Sachi's original master bedroom, which was why it was the only bedroom far enough away from the other rooms to ensure privacy. It was located at the very end of the left wing, with an entire wall of doors that opened up to a vista of sloping, tree-laden mountainside and nothing else. None of the other doors or windows in the inn had a clear view of the room, making it the Sachi's only totally isolated room. Kagome was curious about it; she knew where it was, had cleaned the hallway beyond it once or twice, but had never actually been inside it. InuYasha insisted that he didn't need a maid service and refused to let any of the staff inside.

It was also about as far away from her room as it was possible to get without actually going outside first. Kagome couldn't understand how she'd gotten this far away from the kitchen without realizing it.

Another click echoed through the hallway, and this time, a bright, narrow beam of light spilled into the hallway. Kagome winced, narrowed her eyes at the unexpected visual input, and waited while InuYasha stepped back into the hallway and shut the door. He held the flashlight in front of him, pointed down, and with the shadows as well as the sudden brightness, she couldn't see him that well. Instead, she averted her gaze as he crossed the distance separating them.

A satisfied grunt. "Heh. The bastard just needed new batteries."

"That's why I was heading for the kitchen. I think I remember one in there."

The light jiggled as he shrugged. "We lose power at least a couple times each year during the heavy snows, so I keep one with me just in case. It's a damn pain trying to get it back on without a light."

Her eyes were starting to adjust, so she took another stab at peering through the ambient light drifting from the flashlight. What, exactly, felt so off about him? In the dimness, she could make out jeans and a dark sweatshirt covering his limbs, blending perfectly with the shadows darkening his hair…. She went still, then looked again, more carefully this time. Her eyes widened. "InuYasha…. What happened to your hair?" She tipped her head to the side, feeling baffled. _And…oh dear_. "Where are your ears?!"

And then she realized what she'd found so strange about his voice: his husky rasp had vanished. Tonight, his voice was smoother, gentler, without the rough, grumbling timbre that usually made his voice so unique. "What happened to _you_?"

He went stiff, from his bare feet to the top of his head. The light in front of them bounced a bit as his grip tightened around the handle. They stood in a ridiculously frozen tableau for a moment, her eyes glued to him, his body so tight he looked like he might crack. Then he sighed, a soft, resigned sound, and his shoulders loosened a bit.

The flashlight lifted, flashed up at his face. "The ears are still there. They're just in a little different place than normal."

She stared. Blinked. Came closer.

The light threw harsh shadows across his features, but she could still make out the same face she'd always seen. His jaw, nose, cheekbones, all the same -- but his coloring…. His eyes were an odd shade, much darker than the liquid amber she was used to, though the shadows made it hard to distinguish: gray, possibly brown. His hair was black: pitch black, midnight black, the same black as the hallway had been before his arrival. It was still long, and it still looked thick and luxurious to the touch, but that pale, silver sheen was gone. And, after a moment, she made out one more significant difference, tucked back beneath the darkness of his hair: human ears.

She sucked in a breath, then reached up, her fingers seeking to traced the lower curve of one delicate-looking lobe.

His face tightened and he jerked back, his shoulder thumping into the wall behind him.

Kagome felt the rejection like a dull blow to the chest. She dropped her hand, and averted her eyes. Of course he didn't want her to touch him. He didn't want her touch -- or at least, refused to admit to wanting her touch. Her lips tightened. "You're human."

He sounded annoyed. "No kidding."

Unbidden, knowledge rose from the murky ethers of her mind. Her eyes widened at her own certainty, then shot back to his face. Her lips parted, breathing out sound. "_Hanyou_."

"What'd you just say?"

"It's because you're a hanyou. All half-youkai lose their powers at certain times because of their human heritage, and…."

_And become vulnerable to attack_.

Lines furrowed her brow at the unexpected thought. She shook it off and locked gazes with him. "For you that's tonight?"

Across the beam of light, he went very still again. "Yeah." Suddenly the light was in her face, flaring into her retinas with sharp brilliance. "How the hell do you know that? It's not exactly information that people like me advertise."

Kagome put her hand out, slightly blind, and pushed the flashlight down, feeling defensive over his tone. She blinked into the afterimages that hazed over her eyes and tried to focus on him. "I… I'm not sure, actually. I wasn't even…thinking about it when I said it."

Another silence, this one shorter. "You remembering something?"

"I don't know. I…." Her head throbbed -- not quite a pain, but she reached up to rub at her temples anyway. She took a step backwards, misjudged her feet in her house slippers, and nearly fell onto her butt.

Nearly.

His hand darted out and grabbed at her, his fingers encircling her forearm, jerking her back to steadiness. Even through the thick flannel, she felt the ghost of his heat and strength. He released her the moment she was back on two feet, yanking his hand back like she'd scalded him. She didn't have to see his glare to know it was there.

"Fuck. Start watching where you step, woman, 'cause I'm getting damn tired of catching you!"

Another blow, right to her pride. She sucked in a sharp breath. "I didn't ask for your help!"

"Yeah, well, you would have been flat on your ass if I waited for you to ask!"

"You…! I'm not a helpless klutz, so stop treating me like one!"

"Quit acting like one, and I'll think about it!"

They stared at each other for a moment.

Kagome sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away, embarrassed at the immaturity of her outburst. "Is there anything we can do about the electricity?"

InuYasha sighed, the sound heavy with resignation, and turned to gesture down the hallway. "There's a breaker up in the attic. I'm heading up there now."

"Oh." She hadn't known they had an attic. "Let's go then. It's starting to get cold."

"Let's go?" Black hair flew about his shoulders as his head whipped back around. "Both of us?"

Her temper had already started to fray; at his tone, her spine snapped a little straighter and her lips pressed together. "Well, I was planning on going by myself, but since you're here you may as well come along."

He blinked at her, and she could see the dark slashes of his eyebrows pull together over his eyes. "Oh, hell no. I don't need your help with this. Just go back to your room and go to sleep."

She made an impatient noise. "And how, exactly, do you expect me to do that? The last time I tried to find my way around this place in the dark I ended up _here_ instead of the _kitchen_. And you have the only flashlight."  
"I'll --"

"Take me back to my room?" She deliberately put challenge into her question, reminding him what had happened the last time he'd come to her room. She half-hoped he would, and wondered fleetingly what he'd do if she kissed him when they got there. _Maybe_, a smaller part of her brain, one much more rebellious than she'd thought herself to have, whispered, _he'd stay until morning_. The thought pulled her up short -- not because she was resistant to the thought, but because she hadn't yet carried the implications of her desires through to their inevitable conclusions.

Abruptly, she dropped her gaze away from his, her fingers twisting into the flannel of her kimono robe. Dear gods. Was she really considering doing _that_ with him? She, who had no past and very little knowledge of herself? Was it right for her to pursue such a relationship with him? It was fine to jump right into living the life right in front of her, but was she ready for such a relationship? She'd barely been here a month yet. And, what about InuYasha and his reticence? He had to have a reason, right?

So many questions. Doubts. Nothing was quite as simple as she wanted it to be.

The silence around them thickened as he stared at her through the gloom, some indefinable emotion flickering across his human face. Thankfully, it didn't last more than a few moments before InuYasha shifted his bare feet, then turned his back on her with a gruff snort. "Fine, whatever. Come on. Just don't start screaming at bugs or complaining 'cause it's cold."

He was halfway down the hallway before she'd even had time register his irritation. Tugging and tucking her robe a little tighter, she hurried after him without comment, still chewing over her stunned revelation.

* * *

The attic was at the very top of the Sachi, a hidden third level in a building that had only two. Kagome was quite surprised when InuYasha led her up to the second floor and through a series of turns that she might have been able to remember during the day, but was hopelessly confused over in the impenetrable black of night. They didn't speak while they walked, but Kagome didn't mind; she continued to turn her thoughts over in her head, mulling them over, seeking an answer she could be comfortable with.

Her eyes kept straying to his hair, distracted by the contrast from its usual shade. He didn't have it tied back, so it just flowed around his shoulders and down his back, helping him blend into the night itself. If it hadn't been for the flashlight, she would have lost him for sure.

Human. Tonight, he was as human as she. She turned the concept over in her mind. It certainly didn't bother her, nor did it change her image of him in any way; he was still InuYasha, just with different coloring. She wished she'd gotten a better look at him in the light. Then she wondered how being human affected his physiology, if at all. He didn't seem much different than normal.

Maybe less aware of her.

InuYasha stopped, so abruptly that Kagome barely kept herself from running into him. He didn't even bother to glance back before he led her through a door.

She gave a tiny shudder at the abrupt temperature drop when she followed him into a tiny, high-ceilinged room. A set of rail-less stairs -- more glorified stepladder, really -- had been built right into the floor. InuYasha pointed the flashlight up the sharp incline, and Kagome's eyes followed the play of the beam. The steps were made of thin slabs of wood, and the light flowed around and between them, casting odd shadows against the walls. The steps continued up until they ended at a large square set seamlessly into the ceiling, several feet above their head.

She craned her neck to stare. The square of ceiling looked thick and heavy, and a rounded circle of metal hung from one side. A trap door. "The attic's through there?"

Beside her, InuYasha shrugged, looking thoroughly irritated -- black hair, human ears, and all. "Yeah, well, it's not a very big room. You don't have to come up, you know. Whether this works or not, it'll only take me a few minutes. And it'll be pretty cold up there. The attic's the only room in this place without any kind of decent insulation."

Immediately, she shook her head. "No way. I want to see it."

He darted a sideways glance at her, and his eyes struck her with their darkness. "Suit yourself."

He went up first, the beam of light shaking with each step. For ease of climbing, Kagome kicked off her clunky house slippers before she followed. The wood felt warped, rough, and cold against her bare feet, and she wondered if it felt different to him without his normal youkai invulnerability.

InuYasha reached the door and, after a moment of fumbling with the handle, pushed it open with a grunt of effort. It swung up and into the room above with a faint creak. InuYasha hauled himself up after it, and Kagome caught a glimpse of slanting support beams as the light bounced erratically through the space beyond.

"C'mon." InuYasha's voice echoed faintly, as if he were in a cave. He hovered over the entrance, black hair drifting down around his face, one hand held through the gap.

She bit her lip, then took his hand. His fingers closed around her wrist, warm despite the chill air, and confident; he tugged, levering her with very little effort up into the attic. The trap door stood straight up, a heavy, thick slab resting against the edge of the floor. The rest of the room was filled with storage and shadows: bags, tarps, and boxes of all shapes and sizes piled against each other in random groups against the beam-lined walls, and deep patches of darkness interspersed the spaces between them.

It was kind of creepy….and really, really cold. Kagome shivered again as InuYasha stood and centered the light on a large metal panel set into a section of straight wall on the other side of the room. "That's it, over there."

Not wanting to get too far away from either InuYasha or the light, Kagome kept close while he flipped open the metal door and started fiddling with switches. Grains of dirt and the dust of years of neglect crept between her toes the moment she started walking; Kagome grimaced, already regretting leaving her slippers behind and wondering how tough it would be to detour to the kitchen for a washcloth before she retired for the night. Although, considering how cold it was in here, she might not be able to feel her toes soon anyway.

It took a few minutes of watching InuYasha, but Kagome realized that he was systematically flipping the switches off, then on, one by one. Room by room, probably. Eyeing his hands (and didn't they look strange with neat human nails instead of claws?), she wondered if it was doing any good. "How will you know if it works?"

He didn't look up. "I'll hear it."

Her brows lifted. "Without your ears?"

His fingers paused mid-flip and he gave her an offended look. "I don't need youkai senses to tell whether it's working or not. Don't tell me you didn't hear that sound right before the lights went down."

"Oh. I guess I did."

He snorted and went back to switching switches. "It's not like I'm helpless in this form, you know."

She'd never meant to imply that he was. "It doesn't bother you, losing your senses?"

He cursed and scowled at the switch under his thumb. Then he sighed. "It used to bug me a lot. I'm better at dealing with it now than I was when I was a kid." He didn't look at her, and she couldn't see his face through the shadows and his hair, but his voice sounded sincere.

Kagome was surprised. She hadn't expected such a serious answer. "So why do you hide?"

A shrug of his shoulders and another click-clack of a switch. "Besides the fact that it's no one's business but my own? It's dangerous to let other people know something like this. You never know who might be waiting for you to be vulnerable without your normal strength."

_Vulnerable._ Kagome startled, way down deep where no one could actually see. Hadn't she thought that same thing not too long ago? Why did that sound so…?

Something rose inside her brain, something real and _knowing_, hovering at the edges of her consciousness. She went still and careful, her eyes narrowing, her entire being straining to grab hold of it. "InuYasha…." Even her voice dropped into a restrained tone, barely above a whisper. "You know people who might want to catch you vulnerable?"

He went still as well. Slowly, his head lifted from his pondering of the breaker to stare at her over the flashlight in his free hand. His dark eyes locked on hers, and he drew in a breath. She barely noticed his attention, so focused was she on that tangible knowledge dancing just beyond her grasp. If she could just --

_CREEEAK_.

Kagome saw InuYasha's eyes go wide and his head whip around, but didn't have time to react before a deafening BANG ricocheted through the attic, amplified by the acoustics of the slanted walls. She jumped, a soft shriek bursting from her lungs. Her hand went to her throat as her heart froze in her chest, then resumed at a rate that nearly choked her. The knowing slipped from her brain like a wisp of smoke on the breeze.

"What the hell?!" InuYasha was across the room before she had time to reclaim the breath that had been scared out of her. He knelt on the floor beside the now-closed trap door and tugged at the handle.

It didn't budge.

"Damn." He braced his feet and yanked again, with both hands this time. Still nothing. He tried again: not even a hint of a budge. He muttered something unintelligible, then placed the flashlight on the floor near his feet and braced himself, putting the full weight of his body into the next tug.

Still nothing.

Kagome watched him, anxiety growing in her chest. "InuYasha?"

"Fuck!" He let it go and kicked at the door, but only succeeded in bruising his foot. He turned and glared at her. "I can't get it open. The fucking thing is stuck."

* * *

It took him a good thirty minutes of yanking, pounding, and cursing to admit that they probably weren't getting out of the attic without help. Kagome didn't last that long. She saw the futility after about fifteen, decided to sit down and watched InuYasha's fruitless beating. The door might as well have been nailed shut.

Sit down, on the gritty floor, wearing nothing but underwear and her kimono robe. In a room that was getting colder by the second. Despite the thick flannel, she could feel the chill starting to seep into her skin. She fought off a light shiver as InuYasha finally relinquished the handle and plopped down onto the floor beside her in a fit of disgust, bracing his hands on the floorboards as he leaned back.

"If it were any night _other_ than the new moon, this wouldn't be a problem. I could rip the fucking stubborn thing off its hinges and we'd be out of here. _Damn_ it!" He shifted, swiping at his hair and glaring down at the flashlight that still lay by their feet providing what little light they had in the room. Though -- was the light not as bright as it had been before?

Kagome didn't want to dwell on the possibility of the batteries running out, so she focused on something else that caught her interest. "New moon?"

He sent her an odd look and didn't reply for so long that she thought he wasn't going to. When he did speak, his voice was hesitant, grudging. "The night of the new moon each month, when there is no moon in the sky, is my "time" as a hanyou. From sunset to sunrise, I can't smell or hear like normal, and my strength is only a fraction of what it normally is."

"From sunset to sunrise…." She thought back over the evening, and his disappearance suddenly made sense -- as did his extreme reaction to her presence outside his room. "So…. That means that at sunrise you'll go back to normal?"

"Yeah."

Kagome nodded back and beat back a yawn. "So all we have to do is wait until sunrise. That's not so bad."

This time he looked truly surprised. "Not so bad? You're not going to whine and complain about spending the night in here?"

She shrugged. "How will that help? If we just wait, at some point we'll get out of here." She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed, trying to generate some warmth. "It could be a bit warmer, though."

The dark shadows of his eyes dropped to trace the movements of her arms, and she suddenly wished she knew for certain the color of his human eyes. Maybe she should just ask him. Considering his -- probably wise -- penchant for keeping to himself during his human times, it might be her only chance. Tonight had been a fluke; she wasn't likely ever to get to see him like this again, and bringing it up later would probably get her rebuffed in a mean way.

The thought made her feel inexplicably depressed. Her hands stilled on her biceps and her shoulders slumped.

InuYasha sighed and turned his body around until his back faced her. "Come on. We might as well get a little closer. It's going to get pretty damn cold in here before the night is over and we don't have much besides each other to keep warm."

Stunned, Kagome just blinked at him for a long moment.

"Don't read anything into it!" He snapped at her so suddenly she nearly jumped again. "This has nothing to do with --"

Her eyes widened.

"With anything but keeping warm. I'm not trying to -- It'll be a real pain if you get sick because this damn house is always broken in some way or another."

He crossed his arms, and she stared at his rigid back. A smile tugged at her mouth, and she had to swallow a giggle. "You're blaming the Sachi for keeping us trapped in here?"

He must have heard the laughter in he voice, because he started to turn, but she scooted around first, hearing her heart thump solidly in her chest as she settled her back to rest against his. At first, he was stiff and ramrod straight, but after a few seconds he seemed to adjust to the feel of her, his muscles loosening enough to mold comfortably to hers. In the ensuing quiet, the warmth of their bodies seeped through the barriers of their clothing. Kagome closed her eyes and let his heat envelope her, and the bone-deep shivers that had been threatening for the past few minutes died away.

With a sigh, Kagome laid her head back and relaxed in his presence for the first time in days.

* * *

Being this close to her was driving him nuts.

She felt somehow softer and more real than he had expected, a slight, comfortable weight keeping him company in the dim. The sensation was good, more than good, and some deep, dissatisfied part of him reveled in the closeness, in the intimacy. It craved more.

For the past few days, he'd been doing his best to convince himself that the extreme reaction he had to her was just a result of his youkai nature having gone so long without any sexual contact. His instincts had finally found something they liked, and they were punishing him for the unusually long abstinence. But tonight, at least, he should have been free of them, not suffering in silence over the over the inadequate bits of her that he could smell and hear with dulled senses.

He breathed out, a silent motion of defeat, and his breath puffed in front of his face in the faint light.

Damn, it was getting colder.

His subconscious stirred, a seductive whisper of suggestion. _There are other, more pleasurable, ways to keep warm. Ways that don't involve sitting back to back on a cold wooden floor._

He couldn't help the cynical twist that pulled at the edges of his mouth**. **So maybe it wasn't just his youkai instincts that were protesting his long abstinence. His human urges seemed to agree. Maybe he should start dealing with them.

Miroku's words from that afternoon rang in his head.

He sighed, feeling wry and cornered. "I'm sorry."

Astonishment. They shared it. He hadn't expected that to come out of his mouth, hadn't given himself permission to say it.

She went still against his back. For a few long, blessed moments, shock kept her tongue silent. "For what?"

"For--" He paused. He remembered her mouth, the feel of her lips, her body under his. Her scent thickening the air. He thought about where they were now, and tried to remember why he shouldn't let it happen. His jaw tightened. "For making you angry. I didn't mean to."

He could almost hear her turning his words over in her mind. She sighed. "Me too. You've done so much for me, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I just --"

In the heavy pause, he felt her brace herself.

"Why?! I know you wanted to do what we did as much as I did. Why do you have to act as if it was such a horrible thing?"

His teeth clenched around a wince. Damn, but he'd hoped his apology would be the end of it.

"Is it something I did? Because I'm not really sure what I'm --"

"It's not about you." _If it were about you, _talking_ wouldn't be what we do to pass the time_. He shifted ever so slightly, irritated by how close he came to actual physical arousal just from the thought. Damn, damn, and damn, but his body had been a pain in the ass lately.

"Then who is it about? You? Someone else?"

_Shit_.

Someone else. An image of _her_, from the last time he'd seen her, hit him without warning, and his torso clenched painfully in objection. What the fuck, what the fuck? How had they gotten onto this subject? "Someone you don't know."

_Someone I don't want to think about. Drop it_.

"Someone I don't…. Oh. I'm sorry."

His fist spasmed against his thighs. Such comprehension in that "oh". She thought she understood what had happened. Everyone thought they understood what had happened, even though none of them had been there, and none of them had to deal with the pain or the guilt that had practically eaten him alive. The idiots didn't have a clue, none of them.

He couldn't do it again. Not with _her_, not with anyone.

But Kagome wasn't like _her_, and he had this deep, burning need to turn around and _prove_ it. To, once and for all, leave _her_ behind, never mind that it felt faintly like betrayal. Given the circumstances, betrayal could kiss his ass. And he wanted Kagome -- really, really wanted her. He liked being with her, liked eating her food, even liked sitting with her, freezing in the dark.

But if he were wrong, it would kill him.

"InuYasha?"

So soft, Kagome's voice, so gentle. Just like her body as it rested against his.

"I don't know what happened with this someone that I've never met--"

His teeth ground together as he spoke. "It ended badly, okay?" The biggest damn understatement of his entire life. "Now let it go. It's none of your business."

"But is it really worth all the pain it's causing you?"

_Worth_ the pain? InuYasha frowned. He'd never thought of it like that. The pain was just always _there_, never to be relieved. It was part of his punishment.

She whispered, and the words floated over him like a silky, soothing balm. "I wish you'd stop letting it hurt you. You don't deserve that kind of suffering."

Something similar to terrified certainty constricted around his chest. Oh yes. If he were wrong about her this time, if he let her in and she betrayed him, it would definitely kill him.

He spoke before he realized he wanted to, quiet, near delicate in his question and afraid of her response. "What do you want from me, Kagome?"

The flashlight flickered, dimmed dramatically, then blinked out, blanketing them in a cloud of utter, impenetrable darkness.

It was a long time before she answered him, and he had to strain to hear her. "I don't…know."

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, he moved them both to the corner of the room he felt was the warmest. It was only by a fraction of a degree, but warmth was warmth, and up here, where the temperature was dropping rapidly, even dangerously, they could both use all the heat they could get. He had to drag her with him because she was half-asleep, but he managed to get them both propped, side-by-side, against the wall.

Kagome murmured, curled up against his arm, and dropped back into her sleep immediately. But her shivers didn't stop, and the temperature only got worse. After a few more endless, torturous minutes of feeling the trembling echo from her body to his, he sighed and gave in to the inevitable. He shifted, folding one leg in close against his body and used his upright knee to prop his elbow as he hauled her closer. Then he slipped an arm around her shoulder, tucking her in against his side.

Right away, he felt warmer. She must have as well, because he felt her trembling lessen, then fade away completely before she sighed, heavily. The wind from her breath pushed against his shirt, teasing him with the pseudo-touch. Then she stilled, and the air around them grew quiet and cold and indifferent.

He let his head fall back against the wooden paneling. The soft thunk echoed through his brain, and he spent some time silently cursing the Sachi, Miroku, Shippou, the old bat, and all their customers -- just for being safe and warm and secluded in their own beds.

But not Kagome. While she was curled up against him, warm and trusting and soft, he didn't feel in slightest like cursing Kagome.

Dawn just wouldn't come soon enough.

* * *

It wasn't the soft click that bothered him so much as the high-pitched whine after it. His ears flicked, and he moved his head in an effort to escape the noise, nuzzling his jaw closer to the silky, feathery substance pressed against his neck. Drawn by the pleasing smell, his nose quickly followed.

He was now just awake enough for the next click and whine -- and the bright light that accompanied them, flashing red into his closed eyelids -- to pull him completely from whatever pleasant dreams he'd been having. His top lip gave the faintest of protesting curls, and his arms tightened around the pliant warmth tucked so snuggly against his front. Some distant part of his brain noted with surprise that he sat upright, with his back against a hard substance, while a deeper and more basic part noted that it was fine, because it kept the weight in front of him heavy and secure on his lap.

Wait a minute….something didn't feel right. Or maybe it was that something felt _too_ right.

Confused and still foggy from sleep, he gave a suspicious frown and cracked his eyelids, golden eyes focusing first on the clutter against the wall opposite him. He blinked, realizing that a faint light source had penetrated the room. His eyes darted to the right, focusing on the Sachi's manager, who lounged over the open hatch-hole in the floor with a wide-eyed kitsune hanging over his shoulder. Miroku was wearing a thick sweater, house slippers…and his most gloating, shit-eating grin.

His first thought was, _It's about fucking time._ His eyes narrowed on Miroku's expression, and his frown deepened. And then he noticed the small digital camera dangling from his manager's damaged right hand.

He blinked. _Hold on…what…._

The dangerous grin widened as Miroku spoke, his voice just above a whisper. "I see you had a more pleasant evening than we thought you did." He shook his head. "I don't know why I was worried when we couldn't find you two this morning."

_ You two._

His eyes popped wide as the events of the previous evening hit him with a rush, and he realized what -- no, _who _-- the cozy weight against his body really was. His neck twisted, angling his gaze downward to focus on Kagome, her eyes peacefully closed and head tucked between his shoulder and neck. Her soft body curled up within the hollow of his crossed legs, her own legs folded neatly beneath her, and his arms had slung themselves securely across her back. Her arms rested against his waist, and with her body pressed to close to his, he could feel her every curve -- every supple bit of flesh -- molding perfectly to his far less yielding musculature.

For a moment, he stared at her in shocked horror. Just _how in the hell _had she gotten onto his lap?! He remembered putting his arm around her, and they'd both needed the warmth; he didn't remember inviting her into full body contact. He sure as _hell_ didn't remember wrapping himself around her like paper around a gift.

Then he realized he had a problem. Well, two actually, but the first one was a completely natural reaction, only slightly uncomfortable, and almost inconsequential next to the second….

How in the hell was he supposed to get her _off_ him? If he moved, she'd wake up and realize that she was on his lap. That would inevitably start her squirming around, which would present to her his first problem quite prominently, and how the hell was she supposed to take that after he had made such a point last night out of how this was a bad idea?

Last night. Their conversation in the dark. The intimacy of sitting back-to-back, whispering secrets. What the hell had possessed him to tell her anything like what he had? For that matter, what had made him think that bringing her up here with him would be a good idea to begin with?

_You were trying to avoid temptation, you coward_.

He nearly snorted at his own contempt. That damn voice in his head, the one that didn't give a fuck about past sins or current danger, was getting louder these days.

__

And look where it got you. Next time you should just give in to temptation and avoid the attic.

His nose twitched. Her scent was all over him. It would take him a while to get rid of it, especially after sleeping with her so close --

_Sleep_.

His eyes widened.

_That's right, idiot. You slept on your human night. And you slept pretty damn well, didn't you_?

Gods. He hadn't slept on his human night since he was a kid. He hadn't felt that safe in decades. Decades.

"You two make quite the cozy picture, you know that?"

_ Picture._

His shocked gaze went again to where Miroku stood over the open door -- just in time to be blinded by another flash as the digital camera clicked and whined again. Fury and embarrassment sent a hot, thick stream of blood flushing through his veins, and his "only slightly uncomfortable" problem became _very_ uncomfortable. His scowl was instantaneous, his eyes pinning his manager and darkened with the promise of severe bodily harm. "What the hell do you think you're doing? It's not what it looks like!"

Kagome stirred in his arms, murmuring softly into the bare skin of his throat. He felt it all the way through him, a ticklish vibration that made all the muscles in his groin draw tight and hard. He froze and bit back a groan.

Miroku looked just on the verge of laughing out loud, but he kept his voice pitched low and soft. "Oh really? Because from here it looks like you were just trying to keep her warm after being stuck in the attic all night. If it's not that then what, pray tell, is it really? In detail, please."

His lip curled, and he couldn't prevent the faint growl that resonated through the air. Miroku, still grinning wide enough to split his face, shook his head and place a finger to his lips. "Careful, InuYasha….we wouldn't want to wake our sleeping housekeeper, now, would we?"

InuYasha stopped his movement again, and his gaze went back to his sleeping bundle, and could only be thankful that Shippou seemed too tongue-tied to contribute anything meaningful to Miroku's whispered idiocy. He actually couldn't believe she was still sleeping with all the racket they'd been making.

"Hey, Miroku, does this mean they've kissed now?"

He winced at the loudness of the brat's voice and looked up to glare death at him. He felt Kagome's chest press against his, pulling a deep breath of air into her lungs, and looked down again. Right into Kagome's sleep-soft gray eyes.

She lifted her head and pushed away from him just a bit so she could stare at him. "InuYasha?" Her eyes widened as she took in his changed appearance, then glanced around the room. "You're back to normal! Are we still in the attic?"

She caught sight of Miroku and Shippou froze, then shrank back into him, blushing furiously as she realized the position they'd been caught in.

InuYasha bit off another groan as she cuddled closer.

Miroku finally gave in and chuckled, the delighted sound echoing a bit, as it bounced off the walls. "Rest assured, Kagome, that none of us here at the Sachi would ever leave you in need of rescuing. Unless, of course, you wanted us to." He lifted his hand and snapped one more photo before he sat and lowered himself and Shippou through the opening.

InuYasha snarled and lunged, but came to a short stop when Kagome's arms took a startled grip around his torso. "Give me that godsdamned camera, you pervert!"

Miroku just continued to grin as he climbed down the step-ladder-stairs. "If you two want to come down, we're getting ready for lunch in a bit."

"Lunch?!" Kagome finally let go of her death grip and started untangling herself frantically from his limbs. "It can't be that late!"

He sat back and went very still, keeping a sharp, wary eye on where she put her feet, his mutual surprise over the lateness of the day overshadowed by his concern for certain vital bits of his anatomy being in danger.

Miroku waggled his fingers just before he and Shippou disappeared completely. "You two have been missing for most of the morning. We couldn't really start a thorough search until after we'd gotten Kaede to make breakfast, you see. And then, of course, our kind guests wanted to help, so we've been wandering around looking for you since then." They heard the tapping thud of his feet hitting the floor below, then his raised voice through the opening. "You two really should come down soon. Everyone's been looking for the Sachi's missing housekeeper and owner." A considering pause, and then, "On the other hand, don't come down until later, and we'll find a way to spin this into the legend. It could be good for business."

Now free of Kagome's body, if not her scent, InuYasha groaned and swiped a hand across his face. Somehow, he had the feeling that he was in for a bad day.

* * *

_Kakkou Private Academy,_

_Just outside Hakone_

Lunch was a loud affair, with students gathering in small groups around desks and filling the air with the robust sounds of teenage energy. He sat at his desk, picking at the curry bread he'd gotten out of the machine and staring out the window at the students wandering among the trees and well-manicured foliage of the lawn.

_Nice place. Just what you'd expect from a privately funded high school._

None of the students approached him, though most of them kept throwing him curious stares. Earlier, after he'd introduced himself to the class, Mizumura-sensei had told him to stick with his roommate from the boys' dormitory (whose name he couldn't quite remember, much to his irritation -- but then, they'd barely acknowledge each other this morning as the principal was showing him around) until he was comfortable with the campus, but he didn't know where he'd gone. He didn't mind; he didn't really feel up to the socialization required of a new student in a new school -- not that he expected to make friends anyway. Not with these children of the wealthy and privileged. They didn't know a thing about life or the choices life forces you to make. They had nothing to offer him.

_Besides, I don't even know why I'm here. No use making friends when I could be gone at any second._

The sound of metal scraping across the floor jarred him out of his bland contemplation of nothing, and he turned to see the perky, grinning face of the younger boy who'd darted past him on his way out of their shared room earlier that morning, and the equally perky, grinning face of a girl he hadn't met. He watched, perplexed, as both scavenged chairs from nearby desks and positioned themselves around his.

The girl spoke first, plopping a cloth-wrapped box in front of him on the desk. "Here you are! We just went all over the place looking for you. Figures the new boy wouldn't even leave the classroom on his first day." She flipped a thick wave of long black hair over her shoulder and glared at his roommate.

The boy shrugged the thin, not-quite-grown-in-yet broadness of his shoulders. "I know I saw him leave when sensei called the lunch break." He smiled sheepishly and pushed hand through his hair. "I guess you came back, huh?"

He stared at them both and made an unsure noise of assent.

The girl rolled her eyes at him. "Never mind this guy. He's not very good at doing what he's told -- even when it's keeping an eye on new people." She started unwrapping the bento in front of her. "Anyway, we found you, and that's all that matters. Now we can get to know you. Here. Curry bread is good, but it's not the best for a meal. I just happened to make extra today, so you can share with us." She produced two sets of chopsticks and set one in front of him. "Think of it as a welcome present."

His eyes traveled from the chopsticks, to the girl, to his roommate. He made sure to keep his expression neutral, but couldn't help wondering: _What do they want?_

His roommate shrugged again. "Sorry. It's hard to stop her when she sets her mind on something, and she wanted to meet the new kid."

The girl nodded enthusiastically, her dark eyes sparkling. "Yep. You're the third transfer to come to 2-B this year." She pointed a well-manicured finger at her chest. "I was the first, really early this year. The person who takes care of me wasn't happy with the school I was at, so he got me in here as soon he was sure that the high reputation this place has is earned." She pointed to his roommate. "This guy's only been here a few months. He came here with a scholarship. Isn't that interesting?" She slanted a sly, teasing look at the gangly kid across from him. "He's not even really that smart."

"Hey, Haibara!" His roommate protested, using a pair of his own chopsticks to pick at the contents of the two layers in the bento she'd just spread out in front of them. "The curriculum here is weird! I'm still catching up is all! Besides, it was a sports scholarship anyway."

_Haibara?_

The girl's expression grew doubtful. "Still, with your grades --"

"How many games have we lost since I started as forward?"

She dismissed him with an airy wave of her hand and a secret grin flirting with her mouth. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Mr. Soccer Star."

Still, he allowed his gaze to float between them, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed. _Transfer students? Why are they bothering me, anyway?_

She noticed and stopped to tilt her head at him. "Don't worry. We don't bite. They said you came from Tokyo, right? Well, so did we. I thought we could be friends. And you know how it is. We transfer students have to stick together." She nodded her head at the chopsticks he had yet to pick up. "Now eat! Quickly, before this guy gets everything."

Soccer Star (whose name he _still_ couldn't remember) grumbled at her through a mouthful of onigiri.

Sighing, he let his shoulders relax just a bit and cautiously picked up his chopsticks to snag a funny-looking, but delicious-smelling, piece of meat. "Okay." No harm in free food.

The girl called Haibara's grin returned, full of mischief. "So…. Does the new kid like playing shogi?"

His hand paused and the morsel hovered below his lips, tempting his mouth with waves of taste. Had she just asked him about a strategy game? "Shogi?" She nodded and he lowered his hand. "Why?"

Her eyes took on a sentimental droop that was kind of cute. "I used to play all the time at home when I was little, but I've only just started getting any good at it. Then I had to come all the way out here, and I have no one to play with to keep improving." Her eyes slanted an accusatory look at the boy still stuffing his face next to her. "I've been trying it with Mr. Soccer Star, but he's not very good yet."

Soccer Star shrugged and made a face. "I don't remember how to play. I never liked shogi."

"Anyway, we've kind of formed our own little unofficial club." She plucked up a piece of shrimp. "If you know anything about it, maybe you can play with me. I want him to see how much I've improved the next time I visit home." She tucked the shrimp into her mouth and chewed delicately.

He blinked at her. "What makes you think I would be any good at shogi?"

She eyed him, and the wise look in her gaze caught him off guard. "It's the way you look -- you watch everything that's going on around you with this calm, measuring face, as if you're considering different things that could happen. You've only just got here, but I'll bet you have most of what you've seen memorized already. I've seen that look before, and the people who wore them were always better shogi players than me."

He stared at her…and suddenly memories of late nights and warm drinks and laughing adults coaxing him through moves, using the game to teach him more than just strategies, swirled to the front of his head. They flooded his brain, and for a moment felt almost as real as the years-gone nights when they'd happened. Bittersweet as they were, the memories didn't hurt. They warmed him, made him want to smile, and he couldn't help his tiny spurt of surprise.

Haibara's solemnity dropped away with another grin. "So even if you don't remember much about how to play, you'll probably be a good player once we teach you."

He glanced at his roommate who shrugged again and sucked on the straw of a juice packet that he'd produced from seemingly nowhere. "Sorry," he said again. "I should have warned you. Haibara's like _that_, too."

A reluctant grin turned the corners of his mouth. "No, it's fine. I might know something about shogi after all."

Haibara squealed, clapping her hands and making both boys wince. She turned to Soccer Star. "There, you see Higurashi? I told you we'd all get along."

_Higurashi._ Satisfaction bloomed as his memory clicked into place. "Higurashi Souta."

The boy across from him swallowed around a lump of food that was obviously too big for his throat, then looked faintly discomfited before he shook it off. "I told you this morning, Kuromoto. We're living in the same space for a while, so you might as well call me Souta."

The smile grew a little bigger, despite his best efforts to pin it back.

Haibara nodded, and picked up her own chopsticks. "All right, it's settled. I'll make lunch for everyone, and in exchange, Kuromoto will play shogi with us after school. Right, Kuromoto?"

"It's K --" His chest clenched in warning and he swallowed the air and his words. His smile wavered for the briefest of moments before he regained it, nonplussed at his near-blunder. "Haku. Haku is fine." He gave a semblance of a respectful tip of his head. "Since we're all transfer students."

"Right. We're all friends, so we can forget the formality." She dimpled and pointed another piece of tempura at him. "You can call me Rin."

* * *

A/N: OMG! I LIVE!

Yes, it's been over a year. No, I don't really have a good explanation other than life, really. And writer's block, which is something I seem to have a lot of. beats self repeatedly in penance I'm really, honestly, truly sorry. I didn't mean to leave at that for so long. Anyway, this has got to be one of my longest chapters to date, so I'm hoping that makes up for the long wait a bit.

Now everyone thank JRMaxwell for prodding me into this: (deep breath)

HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY, MAXY-BOY!!

shrugs Hey, what can I say? I tried. I swear I did. A little late's not too bad, right? (See? No sparkly birthday posts. No big anything. Just a tiny little present. Tiny, really.)

Um… the next chapter? Well, no promises, but I have every intention of finishing this story. I swear.

Most sincerely,

Quill

* * *


	14. Missed Communications

* * *

**Chapter 13**

* * *

Somehow, the night in the attic led to a truce between them. From the moment they descended to the quiet snickering of the Sachi's staff and the polite, overly-disinterested looks of their guests, it was as if they'd reached some sort of silent bargain. Somewhere in her head, Kagome marveled at it: she didn't push InuYasha, and in return, InuYasha treated her with the civility that he treated -- well, that he gave to everyone else, at the very least. Though, sometimes, it felt like more. The tension, that vague, hyper-awareness of each other, remained between them, simmering low beneath the surface and deep in the recesses of their minds; but outwardly they had, by mutual unspoken agreement, decided to pretend it didn't exist. And in its place, a small peace bloomed.

For the next few days, they worked together and lived in the same home with a degree of comfort between them that they hadn't yet achieved. To Kagome, it almost felt as if they were….

Friends.

* * *

Mr. Hidaka arrived with his wife the afternoon after they'd been stuck in the attic. He was a tall man, gangly and lean, with glasses and neatly combed hair. His wife, a much smaller but just as neat version of himself, fluttered in behind him, smiling politely and constantly fidgeting with her bun. Since Miroku had disappeared into Sounkyo for some unspecified errands early that morning, and InuYasha was busy with the long-neglected roof tiles project, Kagome, Kaede, and Shippou greeted them at the front door. Kaede got them signed in and told them the basic rules of the house while Kagome and Shippou helped them get their luggage to their room.

Kagome liked Mrs. Hidaka quite well. The older woman spent most of her time laughing and chattering on about the mundane details of their trip and the beauty of Sounkyo and the Daisetsuzan. Mr. Hidaka, however, made her nervous in the extreme. The moment he walked into the Sachi, his eyes fastened onto her and didn't leave. She could feel him staring at her the same way she'd always been able to feel InuYasha staring -- except the sensation of his eyes on her body was nowhere near as pleasant.

As she and Shippou had maneuvered their way through the complicated halls of the Sachi, she'd been so disconcerted by his interest, that she'd nearly lost her way. Shippou'd had to redirect her course more than once, much to her mortification. After seeing them safely to their room, she'd bowed, given a quick, polite offer of assistance any time, and fled.

By the next afternoon, Mr. Hidaka had started coming to her with problems: little things, natural things, like help finding his way through the Sachi, or missing towels, or what time lunch would be served. And every time, the whole time, he would _stare_ at her; his eyes made her want to squirm. She felt them frequently, brushing against her backside, lingered on her legs. She tried to make sure she didn't walk in front of him, but he was very good at maneuvering behind her.

The second morning of their stay, Mr. Hidaka "accidentally" smoothed his palm along her hip as she served breakfast in the guest dining room. No else saw him do it, and he immediately bowed his head in apology, but the glint in his eyes made her uncomfortably aware that contrition was far from his true reaction. As it did later that day, when he brushed against her again in the hallway as he and a glowing Mrs. Hidaka followed Miroku (who had volunteered to guide them) out for a day-trip into Sounkyo. And that night during dinner, when his fingers not-so-accidentally made their way under her skirt and onto her bare thigh. And right after that, when he caught her alone and asked, in a low, slime-coated voice, if she ever got lonely living so isolated from the rest of the world.

Mr. Hidaka's touches were nothing like Miroku's light-hearted, harmless groping and indecent appraisals of the female form. Mr. Hidaka's looks and strokes had a hard-edged lust behind them that made her skin crawl. Every time his eyes devoured her body from across a room, she had to clench her fists against the urge to do him physical harm for the violation. But he was a paying customer, and not just any paying customer: the Hidakas had booked the Sachi's nicest guest room for a full two weeks, and were paying quite a bit extra for special perks -- things like a private hour in the baths, or a made-to-order meal delivered to their room. And even if that weren't the case, she genuinely liked his wife, who went out of her way to be thankful and helpful. The thought of causing the older woman trouble by making a fuss over her husband's behavior made Kagome feel guilty. Not to mention the trouble she'd bring to everyone else at the Sachi with such an incident.

She really, truly, and sincerely disliked Mr. Hidaka, though.

After some serious mulling, Kagome decided that, instead of being a nuisance, she would just handle it by herself. Why not? Despite her missing memory, she was still an adult, mature and capable enough of taking care of adult issues. So, on the fourth night, when Mr. Hidaka wandered (seemingly aimlessly) into the kitchen while she was washing dishes and asked for some hot chocolate, Kagome saw the perfect opportunity to let him know that his attentions were unwanted.

She dried her hands and, reluctantly, turned her back on Mr. Hidaka to get cocoa and milk. She wasn't at all surprised when Mr. Hidaka's long, bony fingers crept over her shoulder and rubbed in manner she supposed he thought was seductive. The only thing it made _her_ want to do was be sick.

Instinctively, her body jerked out from under his grasp, and she whirled to face him. She kept her glare polite, but firm; the small of her back pressed back against the sharp, squared-off edges of the counter. "Hidaka-san, I'm afraid I'm going to have you to wait by the table while I make this for you."

He smiled at her with thin lips, unfazed by her obvious rejection. "But I would like to watch you work," he paused, "Kagome." He tasted her name like a treat, licking at his lips as he said it.

She gasped in outrage. The guests who stayed at Sachi only heard her name once or twice (when she was introduced to them, or when one of the other staff members addressed her by name), and rarely did her relationship with them pass beyond calling her a most polite "housekeeper-san." That this particular man would take the intimacy of her name and use it to imply a relationship that didn't exist between them was unforgivable. Her lips tightened and she pointed her finger towards the open door, half-praying that someone would come in and his nonsense would end for the moment. Mr. Hidaka never acted inappropriately where anyone could see. "Housekeeper-san will do for you. Now, please wait over by the _door_, Hidaka-san, _outside of my kitchen_. I will bring you your chocolate there."

Behind the wire-rimmed glasses, Hidaka's eyes narrowed. "Now, now, Kagome. It's impolite to refuse a guest. You wouldn't want me to think you rude, would you?"

Every time he used her name, her skin itched so bad that she felt as if she should be shedding a layer of it onto the floor. _I don't care what you think of me, as long as you get away from me_. Anger flared up, for herself and for his poor wife, who obviously didn't know what a horrible man she'd married. "I must insist that you wait outside."

Hidaka's black eyes dropped abruptly, from her face to her chest. "But I must insist that I stay." His long fingers reached out again, and this time they curled to brush the under curve of her breast through the thick barriers of her sweater and apron. "I believe we could have fun together, you and I. You could give me a detailed…tour…of your kitchen."

Her eyes rounded, her throat closed in horror, and for a moment she couldn't do anything but stare in shock. In that frozen moment, his thin lips curled into a leer and he swept his knuckles up to rub at the sensitive tip of her breast. Her stomach knotted in disgust, and her entire body tensed, rejecting the caress. Her body unfroze suddenly and she reacted on pure, unthinking, infuriated instinct. Unable to back away any further, she shifted forward instead, putting all her weight and insulted fury behind her knee as it rammed up into his vulnerable and very soft parts.

He made a sound, something faint and choked and whiny, and doubled over, stumbling backwards as he did. "You…bitch!" He choked it out, looking up at her through askew wire-rimmed glasses. "You'll regret that!"

She glared back at him from against the countertop, sputtering, still too furious for words.

He finally managed to straighten, and took a step toward her, and she panicked, whirling and grabbing the nearest movable object before turning once again with weapon raised. Hidaka stopped, staring in disbelief at the teakettle ready to bash him over the head. He sneered at her from a safe distance instead. "You should be more accommodating to your guests, _Kagome_. Can you imagine how much damage it would do to your inn if word were to get around about the housekeeper that attacks her guests?"

His words cut through Kagome's rage, and she sucked in a breath. "You --"

Hidaka saw, and smiled. A smug, leering, ugly smile. "My wife and I are very prominent business owners, you know. We're successful and respected. And when we get back, I will make sure that every one of our acquaintances hear about your rudeness. About how unpleasant a stay you made for us. The reputation of this inn will be destroyed. Your employers will lose business and be forced to fire you. I promise you, it will be bad." He stopped and studied her angry, shaken features, and the way her arm lost some of its height as anger gave way to dismay. His shoulders relaxed, and his leer melted into that awful, nauseating smile. "Unless, of course, you can find a way to make it up to me." He took a small step forward.

Her heart clutched in her chest, and she raised her arm threateningly. "Come near me again, you disgusting --" But she couldn't finish the threat.

What was she doing? She couldn't ruin the Sachi's reputation like this! All it would take was one bad story to have people steering away from the Sachi for a long time. And she knew they had money troubles, because Miroku was always muttering about it. They'd already been hurt by a late snow. How much worse would their season be if word of her attacking a customer got out? How would she forgive herself if she somehow ruined the business season for everyone who lived here? What if it was more than just a single season? What if Hidaka had the kind of power that could ruin a business entirely? Then what would she do?

_Gods_.

She gasped and pulled the teakettle against her chest, staring round-eyed at her still-wincing adversary. "You can't do that to the Sachi! Everyone works so hard!"

Hidaka's gloating expression told her he'd read her panic. He straightened all the way, and, to her surprise, turned for the doorway. "I've changed my mind about the hot chocolate. Keep it." He paused in the doorway and sent her a look that had her lips curling in a grimace of disgust. "Start thinking of other ways to appease me, Kagome. Maybe I'll keep this to myself if you do."

And then he disappeared, leaving a sick and heavy feeling, like bile-flavored syrup, pooling low in her gut.

_Dear gods. What just happened?_

Her hands were shaking. She set the kettle back onto its normal spot and drew a deep, calming breath. Slowly, the deep, blinding fear receded just a little, just enough to make way for an anger that made her entire body, not just her hands, shake.

She whirled, strode over to outside doors, threw them open.

Her eyes, dark grey, turbulent and upset, glared out into the dark as the below freezing chill of night wash over her. It cut through her clothes, brushed against her skin, and she silently begged it to scrub the memory of _that man's_ touch from her body. Helpless rage bubbled up from deep within her, a gush of molten fury that carried through her lungs and into her mouth, leaving a sour, drab taste in the back of her throat. She tried to think: about how to deal with him, about how to avoid him, about his threat to damage the Sachi and the people who meant so much to her.

But all she could think was…how dare he? How _dare_ that…_bastard_ put her in such a position? He had no right to touch her, no right to demand that she give him any liberties with her person. Yet, what was she supposed to do? She, the imposer? She, the lost stranger with no memory, no resources, no anything outside of the Sachi and the people who had gone out of their way to help her?

Any way she looked at it, trouble was the result: if she told InuYasha and he did something, the Sachi and its crew would be hurt; if she didn't tell and had nothing further to do with that despicable man (because letting him get anywhere near her again was simply not an option), the Sachi and its crew would still be hurt. And how could she do anything to harm the Sachi and its residents? They were nothing less to her than family.

_Oh, gods. What if he blames me for provoking Hidaka? _The moment the thought crossed her mind, she knew it was a stupid, irrational fear, but nothing about the situation she'd just found herself in felt rational. She felt trapped in a corner, unable to run, unable to ask for help.

_How dare he?!_

The scream burst from her throat, a pure, rough sound of defiance into the night, and her fingers bit into the doorframe. Then she just stood in the open doorway, slowly going numb beneath her clothes, breathing in the frozen air, letting it chill her lungs and soothe her heart. The peace of the forest surrounded the Sachi, encompassed it like a warm blanket, and she drank it in. Several moments of soft, soothing nature drifted by, and she started to calm.

But then an odd feeling crept out from the darkness.

Kagome blinked, shifted her stance, and rubbed at her arms through the heavy weave of her sweater. She frowned and shifted again, abruptly hyper-aware of her isolation and wondering why that made her so nervous. One of her slippers took a timid, defensive scoot backwards as the sensation grew, became an ominous presence veiled within the safety of the trees, red-hot and unfriendly. Then, like a strike of lightning, she identified the foreign sensation, and the comfort she'd just started to gather warped into horror as her heart stuttered madly in her chest, and a gasp of air strangled in her constricted lungs.

_Anger_. She felt huge anger. An unshakable fury, reaching for her, _seeking her out_.

Was someone watching her? Out there, beyond the trees?

Her eyes flicked up, searching out the shadows deep in the forest, seeking whatever it was that had just sent her body into fight-or-flight mode. No use. The overcast sky, combined with the backlight from the kitchen, made the forest impenetrable -- the perfect hiding place for the thick, creeping malice, a sense of death that scuttled closer through the black. The longer it went on, the more certain of it she became. She took another scooting step backwards, ready to flee, nearly in shock at the suddenness of it.

Someone was out there. Someone, or _something_. It was as if her scream had summoned a --

She heard the sliding whump of snow, then a heavy thud against the icy earth as a presence dropped to the ground in front of her. "Kagome! What --"

She jumped backwards, a shriek sticking in her throat. Her shoulder collided with the edge of the doorframe, and bruising pain traveled up her neck.

"Whoa! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Her head jerked up, wide eyes seeking and finding the gleam of silver hair as a figure stepping up onto the porch and into the kitchen light.

"InuYasha?" Relief, like a warm, refreshing breath of air, rushed through her. Unbidden, one of her palms pressed against her chest, trying to calm her heartbeat and still her breathing.

He moved closer and she saw the long, knit sleeves of his shirt, his bare feet, the harsh set of his expression. "I heard you scream and I thought -- are you okay?" His eyes, flickering with temper and concern, gilded gold in the warmth of the light, traveled up and down her body. They took in her fluttering breath and pale, frightened features before they jerked up to search hers. "Shit. What's got you so damn spooked?"

Wait…he'd heard her scream? But she hadn't meant to call him. Had she?

She could see his nose twitching, ever so faintly. "I -- I felt something. Out there." Even as she said it, she knew it sounded bad. Like she was hysterical, seeing things. Internally, she braced for his derision. "It was -- I don't know, dangerous."

But the frown between his eyebrows grew more pronounced. The silver highlights in his hair gleamed as he turned; his gaze scanned the trees. "Something? In the forest?" He didn't sound skeptical; he sounded blank, cautious.

She lifted an arm, was dismayed to see it trembling, and gestured at the dark shadows beyond the reach of the kitchen light. "I know it sounds a little…strange but something was _there_. It's --"

"Tch." His waving hand cut her off as he stepped out towards the edge of the porch, his nose in the air. "Stay here." He disappeared into the dark, his bare feet seemingly oblivious to the layer of snow on the ground. In his wake, the night was quiet and still.

And Kagome realized that the presence, that driving hate that had frightened her only a moment before, was gone. Vanished as quickly as it had come.

The adrenaline that had kept her so alert and on edge crashed, her breath whooshing out of her. Her muscles went limp, and she slid down the wall, feeling physically and mentally exhausted, her body shivering. She wrapped her arms around her knees and sought out InuYasha's form beyond the short reach of light, but couldn't make out anything except dark shadows and much blacker shadows.

Kagome didn't have the faintest inkling what that sense of danger had meant -- but once again, she had the terrifying certainty that she should. Somewhere, in that part of her mind where she knew things without really _knowing_ them, she was sure she should have identified it, and done something about it. Her fingers curled into fists against her jeans. She hated feeling so lost, so under-equipped by her lack of knowledge, and her helplessness made her chest tight.

All she'd wanted to do was calm down and think rationally about --

_Hidaka_.

She buried her head in her arms, fighting off a groan. Should she tell InuYasha? But, oh gods, wouldn't that just cause a dramatic mess, with her at the center? She sucked in a shaky breath. Or would it? She honestly wasn't sure what InuYasha would do. Maybe he'd tell her to ignore the bastard, to be strong and not let him get to her. Or maybe he would just blow it off as something normal in the hospitality business. Her chest constricted around the thought, but she forced the reaction away.

Maybe…maybe she could just wait Hidaka out. He and his wife were only supposed to be at the Sachi for another week. His threats could just be bluster. But how could she possibly risk it?

She didn't hear him come back through the painful whirl of her thoughts, but she was suddenly aware of him standing next to her. A sigh passed her lips, and she lifted her head. "You didn't find anything, did you?"

He was frowning down at her. "No. No trails, no scent trace, nothing. Whatever it was, it's not there anymore."

"I know." She let her head drop against the wood at her back, feeling acutely foolish. "I can't feel it anymore." She closed her eyes and waited for what came next: he'd scoff, call her an idiot and a coward for being afraid of the dark, and leave. Probably all at the same time.

"Kagome…."

She felt the wood of the porch vibrate from a single, quiet thump and her eyelids flew open.

InuYasha stared at her from only an arm-length away, his face level with hers. He'd dropped down into a crouch, right in front of her; he had the elbow of one arm braced comfortably against his knee, and the fingers of the other just resting against the top of her slippers. The heat of his gaze, the only pleasant thing she'd felt all day, studied her expression. "You feeling all right? You don't look so good."

Kagome sucked in a breath and felt her eyes widen. He was so close, and his eyebrows had that hard, concerned curve to them. She curled her fingers against the sudden urge to smooth out the tense lines around his eyes. "I'm just tired."

His body shifted forward, and one of his knees hit the porch. His fingers brushed at the bangs feathering against her forehead. Her breath stilled. Some of the tightness dropped from his features, softening the lines around his eyes. "Dummy." The hand left her hair, but continued to hover in the air beside her face. Even if he didn't touch her, she felt it. "If that's all it is, why the hell are you still awake?"

She wanted to tell him about Mr. Hidaka and his troublesome behavior, but the words stalled in her chest. Something about the way he looked at her kept her silent. The way he sat, his body close and huddled almost protectively in front of hers, made her want to forget Hidaka even existed, or that she'd felt so horribly unsettled just moments ago.

_I wonder what he would do if I put my arms around him now? He's practically hugging me as it is_.

Or what if she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the mouth that was hardly an arm's length away? Tasted him the way he'd tasted her that night in her room? She wanted to -- oh, how she wanted to. She felt the pull from deep inside her, a ribbon of liquid heat coiling through her blood, as if it were the only right and natural course of action.

In his eyes, she saw the normal awareness flicker beneath the gentle concern, but for once he didn't pull back. Tonight, he just sat there, still and almost expectant. As if he were waiting for her to move. The night closed in around them, thick yet subtle, hovering on the razor's edge between resistance and surrender. All it would take was one small moment, the faintest touch, to tip it over.

Except, they had that unspoken truce between them and she was reluctant to break it. Kagome liked the easiness they'd had for the past few days. She didn't want to destroy it by making him angry or by sending him running; she didn't want to put that awkwardness between them again. She didn't want to move at all, unless it was to curl into his body, to soak up the safety and warmth of him. And she couldn't do that without breaking their truce.

Her lips pressed tight, and she dragged her gaze away from his and fixed it on the threshold beside them, struggled to regulate her breathing. "I'm sorry for screaming like that. I didn't mean to…make you worry." She started to unfold her body, afraid that if she didn't leave _now_, she would end up making a fool of herself twice in one night. "I'll go to bed n --"

His palm slammed against the wall beside her head.

Her head whipped back around, and she stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. He was looking away from her now, and she couldn't see his eyes through the shadows of his bangs. What she did see was the muscle working convulsively in his jaw.

His teeth gleamed through a twist of his lips. "I'll look again tomorrow. For whatever it was that scared you. This is -- this place is my responsibility. If something was out there, I'll find it, so…." He breathed out, and the arm pressed so stiffly against the wall near her cheek lost some of its tension. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

For some reason, she was having trouble breathing again, and she had to swallow around a stinging ache that gripped her throat. She nodded and slipped out from the protective stance of his body, climbing to her feet and forcing them to take her away from him. "Thank you. Goodnight."

And she left him, still crouched and braced against the wall outside the kitchen, while her heart beat -- heavy, frenetic, objecting -- in her chest.

_That was…. He was…_.

He was always grumbling about it, but he never balked at taking care of her, and now she was certain that if she told InuYasha about Hidaka-san, he would just make the situation worse. After all that he'd done, she couldn't allow something as ridiculous as a little harassment to hurt him. She had to disable the situation, somehow.

_Tomorrow_, she thought, taking a blind, automatic course through the Sachi's hallways. _Tomorrow, I'll find a way to deal with Hidaka-san that doesn't cause more problems for everyone_.

She could do it. She just had to try a different approach.

Right?

* * *

Early the next morning, Kaede was sitting on the small porch of her little cabin, wrapped in several layers of coats and mufflers and sipping at a steaming cup of tea. Kagome was certain Kaede's dark eyes had spotted her the moment she rounded the curve in the trail that hid it from the Sachi, but Kaede didn't acknowledge her until she'd come to a shivering stop in front of the cabin's wooden steps, her breath puffing white clouds of humidity in the still-pale light. The sun was just shy of making its sky-warming appearance, and all around them, the forest was beginning to stir with it's winter daytime activities.

Kaede smiled at her, eyeing her bed-tossed hair and the dark circles under her eyes. "Good morning, Kagome. May I offer you some tea?"

Kagome managed a weak smile, fully aware of the sight she made. After she'd left InuYasha on the porch, she'd spent the majority of her night tossing, turning, and pacing around in the dark, seeking a solution to her problems. Sleep hadn't even been an issue. "No, thank you, Kaede. I don't have much time before I have to start breakfast."

Kaede closed her eyes and savored another sip. "Very well. May I ask, then, to what I owe the pleasure of a visit so early in our day?"

"I --" Kagome hesitated, sighed. "I was…hoping to ask your advice."

"Oh?" Kaede peered at her over the rim of her cup, a vague smile twitching at her lips. "What has InuYasha done this time?"

Kagome felt her cheeks go pink. "No! This isn't about InuYasha…" she chewed on her lip, "…not _directly_, anyway. I'm having a problem with one of the guests, and I'm not sure what to do about it."

Kaede lowered her tea and stared at her in surprise. "A problem with one of the guests? But everyone has been getting along so well. What sort of problem is it?"

Kagome glanced behind her at the Sachi. "I really don't have that much time, but--may I sit?"

Kaede gestured to the edge of the step beside her.

Kagome settled in, and told the older woman everything that had happened in the past few days, starting with the Hidakas' arrival several days before. Kaede listened quietly, her expression going from serene, to curious, to frowning. When Kagome told her about the previous evening's encounter (sans the incident with InuYasha), Kaede's demeanor went to downright displeased.

She placed her cup down, her tea forgotten. "Kagome, you must inform InuYasha."

Kagome bit her lip again. "I was afraid you'd say that. If I do that, won't it only cause a scene? The Hidakas are wealthy, influential guests who have the ability to hurt the Sachi's reputation, and that's the last thing I want. I don't want to be a burden."

Kaede's expression softened, and her hand reached out to rest against Kagome's. "Kagome, no one here considers you a burden. Not even InuYasha," her voice went as dry as her expression, "despite how he may act. You should realize that by now."

Kagome shook her head stubbornly. "If we tell InuYasha, he'll do something to make Hidaka-san mad. I've been trying all night to come up with a way to solve Hidaka-san's behavior, but the only thing I can think of is to avoid him. But that might not work because he's been deliberately seeking me out."

Kaede frowned again. "I can see your concern. Very well. Miroku is adept when it comes to handling the customers, so perhaps asking him is the better option -- though you must understand that even if you ask Miroku, the chances of InuYasha not discovering the situation are very low. And I am certain he will not be pleased that you did not come to him."

Kagome sighed and looked down at her hands, folded on her lap. "Maybe the best option is to avoid Hidaka-san after all. That way no one gets hurt." She didn't relish the thought of running and dodging her way through her duties for the next week, but if that was what it would take to keep the situation from getting out of control, then she would.

Kaede's dark eyes searched her miserable features, then turned to seek out among the trees and their burgeoning details as the sky brightened. "You came to me because Hidaka scares you, did you not?"

Kagome bit her lip, but didn't answer.

Kaede nodded and patted her hand. "If you truly do not wish for anyone to know, I will do my best to help you quietly. However, if InuYasha finds out about Hidaka-san's treatment of you in some other manner, his reaction will be probably be quite extreme. Consider telling him first. He's not unreasonable."

The look she shot the older woman was so skeptical Kaede chuckled. "Very well. InuYasha has the ability to be reasonable under the correct conditions. If you approach him now, then you may find it easier to work out a calm solution to Hidaka-san's inappropriate behavior." Kaede smiled again, this time softly. "Trust is as important as friendship in a situation such as ours, Kagome. No one here does anything alone. This is the way we live."

She stood, slow and lumbering, to her feet. "Come. If you can help me along this path, I shall help you with breakfast."

* * *

InuYasha was having a hard day. It was his first really bad one since the night in the attic, and he wasn't taking it well. He was tired, deeply pissed, hungry because he'd missed most of breakfast and all of lunch, and frustrated as all hell.

And it was all. Her. Fault.

He gave a mild curse and swung himself down from the roof. The box of roof tiles beneath his arm and his tools, placed carelessly in the box, rattled ominously as he landed with a jarring thud on the porch. He crouched to set the box down, then picked up one of the top tiles and turned it over in his hands, scowling and checking for cracks. He still had two other areas of the roof to check and patch if necessary.

Everything had been going so well. Something about her still put him on edge whenever she was around, in spite of their night in the attic, but he'd been doing such a damn good job of hiding it for the past few days, he could almost pretend it wasn't such a bad thing. He'd even gone so far as to admit that it was kind of nice; besides that whole edgy undertone, life had abruptly gotten a whole lot more comfortable after their night in the attic. It was a hell of a lot easier having her around when she smiled so effortlessly whenever she saw him. Meals were a hell of a lot more pleasant (tasted better, too) when she wasn't pissed and freezing him out, and everyone else wasn't glaring death at him. Even the aggravation of wanting her had settled into a kind of hesitant acceptance, like a constant background hum that made everything from waking to sleeping a little more vivid and interesting.

But last night had ruined it.

When he'd heard her scream. Gods. He'd _panicked_.

The ferocity of it had stunned him. He'd been half-asleep, on his way to bed when he'd caught the low, desperate echo of her voice through the trees. At that moment, he hadn't stopped to think or wonder; he'd just reacted on instinct, rushing out into the night to trace her scent. His mind had been a confused mix of hot fury that anything would produce such a sound from her, and a guilt-ridden pang that he hadn't stopped it from happening. When he'd finally found her, she'd been terrified.

In that one instant before she'd known it was him in front of her, the smell and sight of her had actually pained him, like icy fingers spearing through his heart. He hadn't felt such an awful sensation in years. Five years, to be precise, and it was just as unpleasant now as it had ever been. Not being able to find what had induced her fear, his failure to pinpoint and eliminate it, had irritated him almost as much as reliving it.

He didn't doubt her, even though he hadn't found anything, not even after searching again once the sun had come up. Something dangerous had already happened to her once. It made sense that the threat might find her again. And given the situation that had brought him to the Sachi, he'd be an idiot not to investigate any potential threat.

And then he almost hadn't been able to let her go. Afterward, on the porch, sitting with her in the shadows, he hadn't pulled back, hadn't been able even to consider leaving her alone. He'd been gripped by tension, his mind fogged with irrational relief, adrenaline, and longing, so strung he could have snapped. If she'd kissed him -- simply leaned forward a fraction and brushed her lips against his -- it would have been the end of their stupid little dance. He would have taken her to his room, to hell with the past, the risk, and the consequences, and they'd probably still be in there now.

They'd been so close. Even now, he could almost taste her.

His entire body tightened. In a fit of temper, he threw the errant tile and listened, with very little satisfaction, as it hit the edge of the roof and shattered, its sharp-edged pieces falling softly into the snow. What the hell! Everyone around here already thought he was fucking Kagome -- everyone except for all his friends, and _they_ thought he _should_ be fucking her. So why was he putting himself through hell _avoiding_ it? It no longer made sense to him.

He surged to his feet.

He was a healthy male. She was a healthy female. They were attracted to each other. So why weren't they --

"InuYasha?"

He twitched as the voice of the woman he'd just been contemplating making scream his name…spoke his name from behind him. His hands clenched at his sides, but he didn't dare turn around. "What the hell do _you_ want?!"

Silence.

_Offended_ silence.

He winced. _Oh, hell_.

Feeling vaguely guilty, he forced himself around to face her, pushing out a sigh he hoped would help his shoulders loosen up. He nearly winced again at the look gracing her features, then gentled his voice, hoping to avoid any potential blow-up. "I -- what?"

Kagome stared at him with wide gray eyes and stiff features, as if she was trying to decide whether or not to be angry with him.

InuYasha stood impatiently, tense and anxious to get away from her until he managed to straighten out the common sense that last night's encounter had scrambled. The night before seemed to hang between them in the silence, an unfinished, unspoken landmine just waiting to explode.

His endurance lasted for a grand total of five seconds. "You got something to say, or you want to stand here all day?"

Abruptly, she jerked her gaze away and started fidgeting. "Oh, um, actually…."

Her hair was loose around her shoulders today, and she was wearing worn-looking jeans and a sweater, but the sweater wasn't the bulky type. It was soft and feathery, vaguely loose in that clingy way the emphasized curves instead of hiding them. He shifted uncomfortably on his bare feet and tried to remember buying that particular item for her. Instead, he found himself confronted with the vivid memory of swelling breasts and sheer white cotton. His fingers itched with the sudden urge to reach out and touch, to smooth over the material covering--

He jerked his eyes away, suppressing a growl.

She drew a deep breath. "Would you like some tea?"

His eyes went back to her. "Huh?"

She gestured at tools and the forgotten box of tiles. Her shoulders looked a little straighter, and she'd stopped fidgeting. "You've been up on the roof all morning, and you missed lunch. Why don't you take a break? I have some sandwiches in the kitchen."

He scowled. Going anywhere with her right now was a bad idea. "I don't --"

"Please." She still wouldn't quite meet his eyes, but her voice had a forceful edge.

Confusion and surprise knit his eyebrows, and he caved before he thought better of it. "Okay. Sure."

She gave a tight nod, then whirled and walked away, heading for the kitchen without another word. His eyes went straight to the sway of her hips without his consent, and for a brief moment he considered taking it back, telling her that he had other chores to do and that missing a meal wouldn't hurt him. And he would have, if weren't for the fact that she obviously wanted something else -- something serious, because it was making her nervous. What it could be was beyond him. As far as he knew, the only problems they had at the moment involved intense frustration and sleepless nights. And most of that might be more his problem than hers.

Though, come to think of it, she did look a bit tired today.

The only other thing he could think of was her lost memory.

He blinked and his heart gave a momentary trip over its own beat. Oh, shit. She hadn't remembered something, had she? His feet started moving on their own, following her despite the vague foreboding gnawing at his stomach. Had last night jarred something? Maybe she remembered her name, or what she'd done before, some clue that might help them find where she'd come from.

And then what? Would they be expected to drop everything and start searching for whatever life she'd had before? Right, because she'd obviously had such a great thing going. A bullet in the head was always a sign of a happy life. Never mind the people here who already depended on her -- the stupid kit would mope around for a year if she tried to leave now. And just how the hell would she take responsibility if it somehow brought more problems to their door?

He nearly snorted, irritation making his teeth ache. Damn woman, always causing trouble. Couldn't she just be happy with what she had right in front of her?

They were halfway to the kitchen before he realized he was actually _worrying_ about her remembering something from her previous life. He paused for a long moment, then started moving again out of pure, dumb consternation, shaking his head. Since when the hell did he _not_ want her remembering her past? That was dumber than the stupid sexual fixation he couldn't seem to shake.

They reached the kitchen and Kagome slipped her socks back into her house slippers before she stepped into the kitchen. He watched her silently, still feeling confused and a bit pissed off that he seemed to be missing something, as she rounded the counter, grabbed some already-heated water from the stove and poured it into the two mugs sitting in wait. She grabbed both mugs and carted them over to the table -- where, he noticed, a plate piled with triangular finger sandwiches had already been placed out for whoever wandered in hungry. Frowning, but not in the mood to deny himself the lesser pleasure of relieving his empty stomach, he walked over to the table and stuck one of them into his mouth.

Then he noticed that the inside kitchen doors were closed. That was…rare. The kitchen usually stayed accessible to the guests at all hours of the day.

The door they'd just come through scraped softly as Kagome slid it shut.

He almost choked on his sandwich. Both guests and staff knew one of the Sachi's cardinal rules: never just walk into a room with closed doors. Now they were alone, isolated together in a room where no one would interrupt them without warning.

_What the hell is she doing_?

He glared at her, but she didn't even do him the courtesy of noticing as she shuffled slowly over to the table and sat down across from him. Struck again by the feeling that he was missing something important, he sat as well and crossed him arms, staring at her expectantly.

She wrapped her hands around her steaming mug and chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before she looked up at him. Her gray eyes were serious. "I need to ask you something."

He blinked. "So ask."

"It's about last night."

The fingers against his biceps curled into a fists as guilt slammed into him once again. "I couldn't find anything."

She seemed startled. "What?"

His ear gave a short, harsh flick and he avoided her gaze. "I looked again this morning. I couldn't find it. Whatever it was, it's gone."

"Oh." She pressed her lips together and, for a moment, seemed lost. "Um…that's okay, this isn't about -- no, I mean, that's not what I…need --" She stopped, sighed. "I need your help with something."

"Help?" He looked up, but this time she was avoiding his gaze. "With what?"

Her fingers fidgeted with the handle of her mug. "I have a problem. It's…something that's been bothering me for a while now. I thought I could deal with it on my own, but after what happened last night --" Another sigh, and her eyes lifted to his, wide and soft and pleading. "I don't think I can anymore."

_Last night_.

She wasn't talking about the thing in the dark, the thing he hadn't been able to protect her from. But, the only other thing that had happened last night was --

The breath slammed out of his lungs all at once, and that clenching, insistent heat started spreading through his body. He sat in stilled, stunned silence. She was coming out and _asking_ him to do something about it? What the hell was she proposing, anyway? That they simply give in to the erotic pull that had been tugging at them from the moment she opened her eyes and looked at him?

Panic, a different kind from the one last night, tightened his throat. No. Hell no. She wasn't allowed to just ask him like that. It was against the damn rules.

Because if she came out and _asked, _he wasn't sure he could tell her no.

She didn't seem to notice his reaction. Her fingers still fiddled with her mug handle. "The situation wasn't bad at first, but it's been getting progressively worse."

Damn right. She didn't have to tell _him_ that. A small part of him perked up a little at the news that she'd been suffering as much as he had for the past few days.

"And it's gotten to the point where I can't just ignore it. It's interfering with my work. Even with the way I deal with the guests."

Yeah. Yeah, okay, he knew how that went. He didn't deal much with the guests, and Kagome's role was much more involved when it came to interacting with the people who stayed at the inn, but he knew exactly what she meant. It still had been interfering with his work, and after last night the tension was making it almost impossible to concentrate.

And she did have a point, didn't she? Wouldn't it be better if they just got it out of their systems? Wouldn't life be so much easier if they didn't have to fight their way through every moment around each other?

"I'm not sure what to do."

_I am_.

His jaw clenched, so tight he was afraid it might break. _No_.

"I've never had to deal with anything like this before --"

_I have_. His breath returned in a hiss of air. _And it almost destroyed me_.

"-- but I thought if you --"

He slammed his palm into the table, making Kagome jump. "No." He bit it out through clenched teeth, forcing each word.

No, it wouldn't be easy, or simple, or anything like that. He knew that from experience, didn't he? So all this other stuff was just a distraction anyway. What gave her the right to offer him something he wanted so badly when he'd already decided he couldn't have it? It wasn't just him he would be putting in danger this time. He had other people to protect, too. Including her. What the hell gave her the right?

Her eye rounded and she sat back. "What? But you haven't even listened to --"

"Don't say anything else." Because he could already see himself giving in to her, and just then he wanted nothing more than to carry the visions plaguing his brain through into reality. He scowled, infuriated that he had to fight himself for every second of refusal. "This whole conversation is pointless and stupid. We can't. Just deal with it."

She just stared at him, stock-still, her spine straight. A strange expression crossed her face, something he couldn't quite identify; it seemed hurt and angry and sad at once, but went deeper than all that, and he thought she might cry. Everything inside him cringed. For a moment, he wasn't sure which to feel more: anger, guilt…or relief.

He didn't do tears; if she cried, he'd do anything to get her to stop.

But she surprised him. Her expression smoothed out completely and she stood so that her chair shoved out behind her. In the enclosed kitchen, the scrape of wood and against wood sounded hollow and amplified. "Fine." She was already turning away from him as she spoke.

The flatness of her tone made him uneasy in a way he definitely didn't like. His eyes narrowed as they followed her across the room to the sliding doors that lead outside. She didn't say another word to him, just threw open the door and stepped outside. In her house slippers.

_Wait. After all that she's just walking away_?

He should have been relieved.

_She's just **walking away**_?!

The uneasiness grew to unsettling levels. He shot to his feet and followed after her stomping tread, fists clenched at his side. He was having a hard time controlling his breathing -- the anger that brewed in his chest was getting in the way. "What the fuck does _fine_ mean?"

She didn't even pause to look back at him as she made her way along the porch. Her voice was quiet, still flat, and clipped, and it rasped across his already frayed nerves. "It means I can't believe I _ever_ thought talking to you would be a good idea. If you won't help me, then I'm sure someone else can and will," she said, then stopped and looked out across the tree-line. "Miroku is helping Kaede at the cabin today, right?" Without waiting for a response, she stepped off the side of the porch and started traipsing through the snow in those stupid fucking slippers that wouldn't protect her stupid fucking feet on a stupid fucking _beach_.

And all he could do was stare at her, speechless, as she got farther and farther away. He couldn't be hearing her right.

_Miroku?_

She could not honestly mean what he thought she meant. His chest tightened as she drew closer to the thickness of the trees that would very quickly hide her from his view. That bitch could not _seriously_ be considering what she sounded like she was considering.

_Miroku?!_

Deep in the pit of his stomach, something coiled and burned. Kagome was just going to…_give_ herself to that damn _pervert_?! She was going to let him touch her… Taste her…. Let him see what she looked like when she --

The animal inside him reared up in protest and snapped viciously, pushing and churning at the boil in his blood until all he saw was red.

_Like hell!_

The snarl that had been clawing at his throat burst from his lips and in the next instant, he was across the distance, catching her at the tree line, ignoring her cry of surprise as he pinned her to the bark of the nearest tree. His lip was curled and his fangs were bared as he pressed into her, full body. His knee slipped between her legs, pushing them apart and pressing up, lodging firmly against the sensitive juncture between them.

Her head dropped back, gray eyes rounded in shock. A shallow breath rushed past her lips, pushing the softness of her breasts through the stupid clingy sweater into his chest. His claws wove into her hair and tightened in the loose strands against her shoulder, his grip not painful, but _present_. "I won't let you…." His face was inches from hers, and he breathed it into her face, rough and barely discernable through the growl that accompanied it. "Bitch."

He felt her body tremble against his. Anger and the beginnings of desire had brought pink to her cheeks. Her eyes flashed at him, filled with challenge and defiance that made his body heat with anticipation.

"InuYasha!" She sounded outraged and breathless, and her chest heaved against his, betraying her anxiety. "What are you --"

"I won't let you waste yourself on that pervert."

"Waste myself? What are you talking about? How --" Her eyes narrowed. "Wait. You think I'm going to --" She froze beneath him, for an instant became as still as the tree against her back. Her lips parted to let out a tiny breath of sound. "You think that's what this…." She inhaled, her body rebelling against his dominance, the expression in her eyes growing dark and turbulent. "Well, I offered to _waste myself _on you, but you're obviously not interested. What's a girl supposed to do?"

His nostrils flared in reaction to the scent of her anger mixed with the growing thickness of lust. The only thing that might have stopped him was fear, and she had none of that. Not even a trace.

He spoke through gritted teeth. "Fine. I accept."

The fury that exploded onto her face should have worried him, not sent hot bolts of excitement prickling all over his skin. "You bastard!" Her free fist hit his shoulders with surprising force, and her voice nearly cracked with rage. She started squirming, violently trying to dislodge herself from his full-body press. "You can't just change your mind like that! It doesn't work that way! I'm not a plaything that you can--"

"I _said_ I accept." He grabbed her fists in his own and relied on his body to keep hers in place against the tree. The blood rushed in his head, and his breath came in harsh, ragged inhalations. She bucked against him, and he managed to slide further between her legs, pushing them far enough apart to allow him to settle against her. A growl rumbled in his throat, his teeth flashing fangs as the hard ridge in his jeans nestled between the perfect cradle of her thighs.

She moaned, and her teeth caught at her bottom lip as her feet lifted, snow flying from the damp fuzz of the slippers, wrapped around his waist, pulled him in tighter. He could see the pounding of her heart in the furious throb of the vein in her throat.

Her arousal hit him nearly as suddenly as his own had, a thick, heady ache in her scent that told him how hot and damp she had to be for it to be so strong. His immediate reaction was to grind against her, flattening her against the tree while his head bent forward to mumble inanely against her lips. "I accept."

"_Gods_." Her eyes glazed over, flush warming her cheeks, desire whittling her voice down to a whisper-moan. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Nothing, because his mouth was crushing hers almost before she'd finished speaking, and his tongue met hers in a battle of ferocity. She bit down hard on his lip. He pulled back a fraction to growl at her, but she'd used the distraction to pull her hands free, and her fists in his hair tugged him back to meet her lips at a better angle. The kiss went deeper the second time, her tongue encouraging instead of fighting, scraping and slipping between teeth and textures. He tasted the uniqueness that was her scent, her desperation and eagerness. Her need, wild and sharp and urgent. Just like his.

The claws of one hand scrabbled with the rough bark of the tree. The other snagged at her sweater, tugging the looser material out of his way and bypassing the underlying shirt to push at the soft roundness beneath the bra, to cup and weigh and caress. His thumb grazed the puckered nipple through the cotton, and he instantly wanted to taste there, too, to savor the feel of her skin against his tongue. His licked at the roof of her mouth as he intended to do the straining point beneath his thumb.

She mewled into his mouth and thrust her hips against his, mimicking sex, rubbing against the thickness of his arousal through the frustrating numbness of their clothes. Her fingers slipped from his hair, moved down, loosened his jacket and burrowed into the warm knit of his shirt. The erotic scratch of her nails through the woven fabric made the breath hitch in his lungs and his muscles tighten and strain. Her fingers moved lower, fumbled with his buttons, tugged clumsily at his zipper, getting the material loose enough to slip inside. And then….

He groaned, loud and long, and broke away from her mouth, dragging a searing trail over her jaw and behind her ear as the chill of slim digits worked around him to grasp tightly, to trace and stroke over hot, rigid flesh.

Down her throat. A nip here, a lick there, long laves over smooth, sweet skin. Move the damn sweater out of the way, the collar of the shirt underneath. She whimpered again, and he moved back up to feel the vibrations against his lips. His hands abandoned her covered breast for more interesting territory. Lower, wriggling beneath her waistband -- _careful, don't scratch _-- to slide several fingers below the thin material beneath the jeans. One finger, just so, slipping through soft curls…tender, delicate skin….

__

Gods.

Her back arched, her breasts molded tight to his chest, and she let out a highly satisfying half-scream. Her grip on his erection tightened, and he thrust against her fingers, suddenly unsure if he could even make it inside her before he came.

_Wet. Soft_.

He nearly bit her, he was so damn excited and frustrated at the same time. He craved the fierce, slick clench of her muscles on his body. Needed to feel it wrap around him, needed the fury and freedom of thrusting into her. Now. Here. He throbbed with it, pulsed against the maddeningly restricted stroke of her fingers.

She pressed her neck against his mouth. Her head rolled against the bark in a helpless gesture, and she stared at him with half-lidded eyes, her lips parted and swollen and glistening with moisture. "InuYasha."

A snarl ripped from him at the agonized way she said his name, at the look in her eyes as she focused solely on him. He could taste it -- her pleasure, his -- floating on the very air between them, and he didn't have even the briefest thought of denying either of them.

"Please. Hurry."

Too many clothes. Too much in the way. He pulled his hand free and her protesting moan stroked at his ears. His fingers tore at the button on her jeans.

He was so wrapped up, so blind and deaf and numb to any sense that wasn't her, that he almost missed it. He thought the faint trembling in the ground was just a reflection of the trembling in his own limbs. But she felt it too; her body gave the smallest of warning jerks, even if her consciousness didn't seem to register it, and he snapped to awareness, his body moving before he fully realized why it should.

His fingers abandoned their fumbling and his arms clamped around her waist as he sprang backward. They broke away from the solidness of the tree as the huge, worm-like body of a youkai plowed through where they had just been standing. They landed in a heap of tangled limbs several feet away, snow soaking into their clothes. The tree-trunk, splintered almost clean through near the base, tumbled over with an ominous crash that ricocheted through the trees.

Swearing, disoriented, InuYasha disentangled from soft arms and slim legs and stumbled to his feet, already bracing himself for another attack. His body shook, screeching in protest against the interruption, against the loss of drugging feminine warmth, but he gritted is teeth and ignored it, forcing his senses to focus on the threat. His gaze found the deep depression in the snow left by the heavy body, took in the damage it had done to the landscape around them.

From the other side of the felled tree, the youkai -- large and offendingly pink -- bent both ends of its thick body at him , and he swore again at the yawning mouths and protruding rows of teeth that dominated either end. It was as big as a fucking semi truck, and carried the damp, pungent reek of decay. He didn't see any eyes, which meant the damn thing was blind and had some other way -- smell or touch -- to follow its prey's movements.

A quick glance behind him told him Kagome hadn't been as quick to shake off her bewilderment. She still lay sprawled and vulnerable in the snow.

"Ugly son of a bitch!" His knuckles cracked, and the fury of frustrated lust swirled like a fog through his brain. He moved away from her, hoping to draw the youkai's attention onto himself. "Kagome! Get up and get the hell out of here!"

Her head came up, and he heard her gasp in alarm, her subsequent scramble in the snow, but he didn't have time to feel relieved. The damn thing charged after him. Too fast. He had to jump to avoid it.

"InuYasha!"

Her muffled shriek had him shooting a mid-air glance to his right. Kagome was still on her butt on the ground, her feet and hands planted firmly in the snow, her body as frozen as the landscape around them. Her eyes, large, round, shocked, focused on a point of distance deeper into the forest. He followed her gaze, and in the split-second of change where his body stopped gaining air and started dropping, he saw it: another youkai, smaller -- though still larger than he or Kagome -- round and pink, squirming a fast trail around the trees toward them. Its teeth chattered and clicked loudly at it cut a messy swath through anything that managed to get in its way. A chill touched his spine, cooling his rage a fraction.

Holy fuck, there were two of them.

A mated pair, then? A parent and offspring? Fuck, fuck, _fuck_! Did that mean they had a nest somewhere around here that he'd somehow missed? In_ his_ territory? Right under his fucking nose?! He snarled again and just barely managed to pull his concentration back to hit the ground in a crouch behind the bigger one, his left hand breaking convulsively into the icy ground as he tried to keep an eye on Kagome and the two youkai at once.

The larger one stopped it's forward lunge and reversed directions, making a second charge with its opposite end of mouth and sharp teeth.

The damn things moved too fast. Once again, he had just enough time to dodge, not enough time to attack or move any closer to Kagome.

Damn! Which one was the male, the larger or the smaller? It didn't matter; if he took out the larger one, the smaller one would probably turn tail. It shouldn't be too hard. The bastards' bodies didn't look to have any natural armor apart from those blasted teeth. But first he had to get around the ugly fucker in front of him and get Kagome behind him. No way could he attack properly if she was in the way. And that other one was too damn close for comfort.

He opened his mouth to yell at her.

Somewhere closer than it should be, another tree hit the ground with a creaking, echoing crash. Kagome let out another choked scream and suddenly started scrabbling backwards -- away from the worm coming in far too fast from the trees, and _away from him, damn it_!

His attention divided, he didn't move fast enough away from the larger one's next charge. Its teeth skimmed his side, slicing flesh and drawing blood, and the impact threw his rough dodge off mid-air. Somewhere in the background, Kagome screamed his name. The pain forced his breath out on a hiss, but he twisted, taking advantage of the proximity, and raked his claws along its pink, unprotected side. The skin was soft and porous, and his claws sank deep. His hand came away thick with a sick-yellow liquid that had to be the nasty bastard's blood.

He landed on his back a few feet farther than he'd intended and rolled to his feet in a crouch. A sharp, ripping ache seared into the muscles along his side every time he moved, but he ignored it, his eyes going desperately over to Kagome. The other youkai had broken through the heaviest of the trees to join the bigger one so that both formed a solid blockade separating him from Kagome.

His chest closed up in a tight growl and he practically had to spit out his next breath. How the hell was he supposed to protect her if she kept getting farther away from him?! "You idiot! Get back to Sachi!"

She struggled to her feet. "How?! I can't get around them!" Still, she edged backwards, putting some distance and trees between her and the youkai. Of course she'd end up on the forest side of the damn things.

InuYasha swore again, kicking himself for moving so far away from her. "Just get back!"

At least he'd managed to get a good hit in on the bigger one. Its huge mass wriggled violently in snow that was stained and slippery with yellowish pools of its own blood. It let out a painfully high-pitched squeal as the smaller one joined it. The smaller one gave an even higher-pitched response, and he winced back, his ears shivering in agony as the sound ricocheted through his brain.

But then it turned on Kagome, teeth gnashing, saliva dripping through the cracks.

InuYasha's nose twitched at the scent of severe hunger, of anticipation, thickening the air.

_FUCK_.

"Kagome, run!"

She gave him a panicked, wide-eyed look just as the smaller one charged. The trees in its path snapped like twigs as it ate up the distance between itself and its prey. A growl burst from InuYasha's throat, and he sprinted forward, frantic to reach her first. But the larger one was still moving, and it took advantage of his distraction. A huge mouth, filled with teeth, snapped at him as he tried to get around it.

"Shit!" He threw himself to the side, narrowly missing getting a chunk taken out of his shoulder. He hit the ground hard and rolled, raking his claws through the open wound in his side as he did. He came up flinging power. "_Hijin kessou_!" Blood red blades slammed through the ugly thing's body, shredding it into spattered pieces of flesh and yellow slime, but InuYasha didn't bother to make sure it was dead. He whirled around, intent on putting himself between her and danger.

He already knew he hadn't been fast enough.

_Kagome_.

The youkai hadn't even noticed its companion's destruction. It was in a mindless, instinct-driven race towards food. She was running, weaving and skirting around tree trunks, but the obstacles didn't seem to be slowing it down. She didn't have a prayer of escaping the hurtling mass of muscle and teeth.

_He wasn't moving fast enough_!

"Kagome!" He was running, but he wouldn't make it. His hands went instinctively, unconsciously, to his side, reaching for a sword that wasn't there.

_Shit_!

At the sound of his voice she turned; her back slammed into a tree. He literally saw the breath rush from her lungs. The youkai was almost on top of her, and she'd come to a jarring stop.

His heart filled his throat and everything inside him contracted under an aching, horrified pressure. _No_. He wouldn't watch her get ripped apart. He _wouldn't_. He gathered himself for a jump. Maybe, just maybe, if he came down on top of the thing he could stop her from getting killed.

He saw her eyes, still glazed from the impact, widen. Saw her hands lift as if to protect her face. Heard her shriek.

And then, like some terrifying myth come to life, his incredulous eyes saw the burst of brilliant pink energy flash from her palms.

He knew what it was, recognized the familiar hum of purifying power as it moved towards him. He didn't want to believe it.

The youkai dissolved. It's body broke into tiny pieces that scattered away into particles of pure air. The residual wave of it caught him off guard, and it was only instinct that had him throwing up his hands to protect himself before it tossed him backwards into the snow. He heard the sizzle, caught the whiff of burning flesh as the purifying power raked over his palms.

Then the glow faded out, and the warmth of the sun filtered peacefully through the branches.

Breathing hard, completely stunned, he lifted his hands into the air above him. The skin was raw and red and blistering, like a terrible sunburn, but they'd taken the brunt of it and saved his face from a similar burn. They hurt like hell, too, but pain was a tertiary concern at the most.

_She purified it_.

Off in the distance he heard shouting, and pounding footsteps coming closer. Miroku, Kaede. Shippou. Frightened guests gathering on the edges of the Sachi's porch. Slowly, he dropped his hands into the icy comfort of the snow and forced his body to move, pushing his protesting muscles into a sitting position. Kagome sat collapsed against the foot of the tree where she'd collided, looking weak, pale, and just as stunned as he felt.

_She purified it_.

Her eyes lifted to his, and their dull gray pleaded with him, threaded through with fear and confusion. He just sat there, staring back as the cold seeped through his clothes, into his skin, and deep in his chest. The yelling drew closer, and the voices became more distinct, calling out to them in panic.

_She purified it_.

Kaede came lumbering into view with Shippou on her shoulder, moving as fast as he'd ever seen her, worry written into the harsh lines of her face. She crossed the devastated forest area to kneel by Kagome's side.

Miroku came running up to him, his expression hard, alarmed, astute. Miroku was no fool. He'd taken in the churned earth and the littering of trees; he recognized a battle ground when he saw one. And he couldn't have missed the flare of pure power. "InuYasha, what happened?"

He felt as if he'd shut down, somehow; he heard it in the monotone of his voice. "She purified it."

* * *

They corralled the guests back into the Sachi. The simplest explanation that they could come up with -- a wild animal attack -- was also the closest to the truth without going into uncomfortable detail. Miroku reassured the guests that it had been a freak occurrence, that the area around the Sachi was actually quite safe, and that the animal had been killed and the problem solved. He encouraged the guests to return to whatever they had been doing before the incident.

In the meantime, Kaede took Kagome to the kitchen to examine her. InuYasha stood in the hallway outside and waited, scowling at his hands as the burned skin began to heal -- slowly, because an injury from human spiritual powers was a serious thing for a youkai. After Miroku had managed to restore a semblance of peace and quiet to the Sachi, he joined him, leaning against the wall across from him and crossing his arms.

"Kaede makes a balm that might help with that."

InuYasha waved him off without even a snort of reaction.

Miroku studied him, his brows troubled. "You know what this means, right?"

"Tch. I'm not an idiot. I know."

"Do you know what you want to do about it?"

InuYasha glared at him. Miroku met it with a level stare.

The kitchen door slid open with a rough wooden thud, and Kaede stepped out into the hallway. They watched her as she shuffled over to them.

She sighed and viewed them both through eyes both dark and grave. "Kagome is exhausted, but in perfect health otherwise. She'll need rest to regain her full strength, but that will only take a day or two."

Miroku's brows lowered a bit, and he walked past Kaede, over to the open kitchen door to peer inside. He kept his voice low. "We are not mistaken in what happened earlier?"

InuYasha felt his lip curl. "No mistake. She purified it." He still felt numb from the shock. Kagome had purified the youkai right in front of him, and that meant spiritual powers. And that was one coincidence too many.

Kaede nodded. "Reiki," she said. "It's what Miroku and I have been sensing since she arrived. She has strong spiritual powers."

Miroku frowned. "But why didn't we know? You and I, at the very least, should have been able to measure them from the start."

Kaede shook her head. "I am unsure. I suspect it has something to do with her injury and her loss of memories. Somehow, she's been suppressing her own powers."

"_Suppressing_?" Miroku sucked in a breath. "But that's not -- was it a deliberate deception?"

"It is not a normal talent, but the human mind is capable of remarkable things. It may be that a strong enough desire coupled with the trauma of her head injury allowed this kind of effect." Kaede frowned. "But the desire to live is also very strong. The threat to her life was probably enough to call out her hibernating powers."

InuYasha stared at the hallway floor and felt a cold, hard ball form heavy in the pit of his stomach. His hands clenched, despite the pain it caused.A strong enough desire? Desire to what? Keep the truth from them? Hide from whoever had hunted her? Did she not want her powers, or did she just not want them finding out about her powers? What was the difference, anyway?

A grimace turned his mouth. "She's strong, isn't she?" he asked Kaede.

"Incredibly strong. They have to be, to have purified the way she did. Not many miko can channel power so directly like that without taking significant damage to their own bodies. " Kaede hesitated, her black eyes leveling a meditative look at InuYasha. "Fully unleashed and controlled, I believe her powers will rival even my sister's."

He'd expected as much, but hearing it was still like taking a medium blow to the gut. He winced. "Fuck."

Kaede nodded. "Something else that will be of interest to both of you. I haven't tested the extent of her knowledge yet, but I believe she's had to have extensive training with the control she demonstrated today."

Miroku shifted, his fingers rubbing thoughtfully against his temple, as if to sooth a headache. "This goes beyond mere coincidence. This is…unbelievable."

InuYasha grunted. "I know."

Miroku sighed and glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. "He needs to know about this, InuYasha."

They both looked at him expectantly, but he didn't move.

Why? Why now, when he'd just decided to change things? His mind couldn't let it go, couldn't forget the image of her flushed and pinned between him and that tree. And then the one of her purifying the rabid youkai about to end her life. She hadn't done anything wrong, yet he still felt like he'd been betrayed.

She was a _miko_. The similarities were too much. How could they just accept this? How could he just dismiss it as nothing, no matter how much a part of him wanted to?

_Strong powers. Extensive training. Just like…_.

Slowly, he walked over to join Miroku in staring through the open kitchen door. Kagome sat at the table, smiling wearily at Shippou, who had his face turned up at her in abject adoration. Neither one of them looked over or seemed aware of the somber group outside the door.

He wanted nothing more than to cross the distance between them and put his nose in her hair, run his hands over her body. He wanted to make sure for himself that she was unharmed, rather than take the word of the old bat, or even trust his eyes.

The frozen, twisted knot in his stomach was starting to make him sick. He knew he should feel relieved that he'd discovered this about her before he'd finished what they'd started in the forest. But he couldn't just dismiss the camaraderie they'd developed in the past few days, and ignoring her after what they'd done in the woods would be damn near impossible. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to trust her until that trust had been called into question.

"Well?"

He stared at her a few moments longer, fighting the confusion of emotions that tightened his chest. "Fine." He bit it out through clenched teeth. "Contact him. Maybe _he_ can tell us who the fuck she really is."

Then he turned his back on her and left the room.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so it took me a little longer than I wanted to finish the last section, but I did it. Finally. And after all, I've been looking at it for so long, and going over it so much that I'm afraid it will never look right to me. So, please feel free to let me know if it sucks, and any possible grammar/typo/sentence structure flaws.

Any way, I'm at home, still celebrating a particular birthday and the little time I have left with my family this weekend. Enjoy it if you can. (I'm quite afraid I've messed it up somehow. If it's too unbelievable, I may have to go back and re-write later.)

Note to any readers: With this chapter, Sachi is officially caught up and fully up to date with its chapters. Any further postings will be new chapters and, since I'm a slow-as-molasses writer, may take a while. (sorry 'bout that)

Quill (yep, that's me.)

* * *


	15. Deflection

**%%**

* * *

**Chapter 14:** **Deflection**

* * *

Miroku was of the opinion that a contented InuYasha was much easier to manage than a miserable InuYasha. To be precise: a contented InuYasha required less effort to manipulate, and paid less attention to little details that Miroku would prefer he didn't even notice. Details like more-frequent-than-normal trips into town on silly pretexts, and any strange-woman scents that might or might not linger afterward. InuYasha had the irritating tendency to display an uncanny perception when it came to Miroku's sex life.

So when things at the Sachi settled into a pleasant atmosphere of peace after the attic incident (With maybe a more subtle sexual charge than of late, but who said that was a bad thing? Subtle, after all, was harder to resist than overt.), he was quite honestly delighted. InuYasha and Kagome seemed to be getting along so well that he didn't even feel the need to stick around in fear of missing fireworks. And with every day that passed, he had more and more confidence that nature was running its course, and that those two were bound to find themselves in a position of delightfully irreversible compromise at any moment.

Not to say that _that_ was an incident he wanted to miss—but it did mean that InuYasha's attention was taken up by someone other than Miroku.

He felt perfectly safe, therefore, in taking a little time to pursue those more personal little details that he didn't want InuYasha noticing. He waited a few days after the attic incident (and how utterly charming that he could now count time in terms of "incidents", thanks to Kagome's arrival at Sachi) to make sure everyone was settled, then started with a trip into Sonkyou. He found his lady of choice with little problem, sitting in her chair with her two-tailed companion this time draped across a span of tabletop, an in-play shogi board spread out between them.

He came up behind her silently and studied her for a moment. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, but it still drifted against her lower back. His eyes noted the dark, silky brown mass of it with greedy appreciation. "Shogi again? You seem to have a fondness for the game."

She didn't flinch or start, or even look up, and once again he realized she'd known he was standing there. He couldn't see her face, but he heard the inviting curve to her mouth when she spoke. "It's a way to pass the time."

He was instantly delighted at the opening, his own mouth curling into a lazy grin. "If it's a way to pass the time you're looking for, I may have a few suggestions." Far too early for her to give him what he wanted yet, of course, but it never hurt to plant the idea. "I know the area quite well."

She turned and gave him a sultry, heavy-lidded glance from the corner of her eye. "I'm sure you do."

Hm. Maybe not so early? "Starting with a tour, perhaps?"

This time she gave him the full impact of her brown eyes. "Perhaps—if you think you can win my name." A pause, then a wry, "_Without_ cheating."

He studied her for a moment before it dawned on him that she was testing him. Miroku's eyes narrowed, and his chest tightened with the long-forgotten exhilaration of challenge. He took the seat across from her, carefully respectful of her youkai friend, and lifted a brow. "Perhaps if we could start fresh?"

Her lips twitched, sparking an idle trail through his male brain that debated how skilled they would be when put to other uses. "We could. Or, perhaps, if you can win this one as is, I'll not only tell you my name, but I'll let you choose our next activity, Mr. Tour Guide." Another pause as she appraised him. "Within reason, of course."

He was too pleased by her offer to let her qualification faze him. "Of course," he murmured, studying the in-progress game with interest. After a moment, he looked up, a humorous glint in his eye. He extended his hand over the board. "Shall we make it official, then?"

Amusement sparkled in her gaze. She eyed his hand before she offered her own to clasp firmly with his.

Hot electricity hummed in the air at the first touch of their skin. Lust coiled up lazily in his gut, content for the moment with the implicit probability of future fun and the immediate array of possibilities that flooded his brain—most of them centering around her perfect derriere. Miroku had to check himself to keep his surprise from showing on his face. It had been ages since he'd had such a strong physical reaction to a woman. And if he recalled, the last time had been quite memorable.

From the way she sucked in a tiny breath, she'd felt it, too. And from the way the glint in her eyes went from amused to interested, it hadn't scared her in the least.

He smiled. This "personal detail" was looking to be more rewarding than even he'd thought it would be. He let his thumb drift suggestively over her knuckles. "Deal?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Deal. Your win gets you my name and my...time."

Satisfied, Miroku dragged his palm away from hers and sat back. He surveyed the board again, then tossed a wry glance at her two-tailed youkai companion, who picked herself up and went to go groom off to the side of the board now that it was clear he was staying. "I don't suppose you have any suggestions?"

His answer was an indifferent "mew."

* * *

He lost again—but this time it was so close that she took pity on him.

Her name was Sango. She'd traveled all around the world. And once their game was over, she smiled and gave him the walk back to her hotel to sell her on some of his other suggestions about Sonkyou. By the time they'd reached the building, one of the nicer ones that hovered on the edge of the national park, he'd convinced her to let him treat her to her choice from the best warm snack shop in Sonkyou, with the possibility of lunch a little later in the day.

Miroku had always maintained a healthy appreciation for pity.

Also? She was a _fantastic_ kisser—as he found out as soon as they got to her room. At the door, she pulled out her key-card, hesitated in front of the slider, then turned, grabbed him by the front of his sweater and jerked him straight into a rough, open-mouthed kiss. She tasted of mocha and a hint of minty chap-stick, plus some other essential _her_ flavor that was warm and seductive and infinitely heady. The lust coiled in his gut abandoned the moniker "lazy" with gusto.

Hot damn. Pity was his new best friend.

Sango was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. Her tongue was in his mouth, teasing, aggressive. One of her legs had hooked around the back of his knee, pulling him off balance and into her. They hit the door with a soft thud, and he was suddenly feeling every soft curve in her body: generous breasts, strong, sleek thighs, and the honed perfection of the lovely derriere that filled his palms. The only discordant notes were the multiple layers of clothes and the fact that they were still out in the hallway instead of in her room where she surely had some privacy and a bed (though the latter was optional). What he really wanted was those generous breasts rubbing over his bare skin, that lovely derriere on display for the adoration of his mouth.

She let loose an impatient, sensual moan and swept her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt.

Miroku didn't mind her being dominant (there were so many fun and interesting things you could do with a dominant woman), but he was fairly certain that if he didn't demonstrate that he was strong enough to wriggle out of her control if he wanted to, she'd lose respect for him—and he had a sneaking suspicion that some of her pleasure in their little tryst would go as well. The woman in his arms exuded both strength and femininity, and from the way she'd been testing him for the duration of their brief acquaintance, she wanted a partner who was at least her equal.

Well, his father had always said that it was a man's greatest sin to disappoint a woman in the throes of anything that started with a "P": pain, panic, pleasure, and—most especially—promiscuity. Miroku busied himself not disappointing her.

He curled his tongue around hers and reluctantly pulled one of his hands away from her butt to wrap his hand around the side of her neck, to tip her chin up with his thumb so that he could push back against her aggressiveness. She fought him, trying to jerk away from his guiding thumb, but he pressed his mouth against hers harder, until it was almost bruising, and she relented with another moan.

Her hand curved around his neck, her nails through the tie at his nape, freeing his hair so that it fell around his face. She tangled both hands in his hair and yanked sharply until their kiss was a clashing tango of nips and licks and harsh, urgent need.

Kissing Sango was like the best kind of sugar high: Miroku's blood sang with adrenaline, rushed and pooled while his heart jumped into strenuous activity mode. Heat worked its way through his body in a powerful wave. The hand he still had on her firmly muscled backside, his damaged hand, pushed at the edge of her thick jacket, trying to get at her skin. Silently, he cursed the hallway, the injury that had rendered his nimble fingers so awkward.

Somehow, she'd worked her other knee between his thighs so that with each squeeze of her legs she rubbed against him. A rough grunt worked its way up his throat and responded by pulling her into another tongue battle. She was damn good at those, and he needed her to focus on something a little farther away from his groin while they were still in public. Much of his reasoning had deserted him beneath the onslaught of all that hardworking lust, but he still had enough to realize that embarrassing himself in the hallway would not leave a good impression.

She shifted her knee upward, nudging against the ache of an erection that had come on startlingly fast. "I think," she whispered against his mouth, her voice sultry and naughty and breathless, "that you have a problem here."

At the teasing touch, fireworks sparked a trail through every blood-filled passage in his body, and all his careful plans about what he was going to do with her once they _got behind the damned hotel room door_ went all jumbled and nonsensical. He pulled his lips away from her luscious ones.

"_I_ think," he urged, nipping at her jaw, then laving his tongue over her ear to a gratifying hitch in her throat, "that it would be a very good idea for you to open the door now."

Sango tilted her head, murmuring a wordless bit of pleasure while he nibbled at her lobe. "I need the key-card," she breathed.

"Excellent idea. Get it." Sango had a charming neck, ivory skin over slender strength. "Quickly, if you have any mercy."

She let out a breathless laugh— "If you insist," —then slid from his grasp, dropping to the floor.

Miroku found himself suddenly bereft of the body he'd been so enjoying exploring, his empty arms braced against the door to keep himself from falling forward. He blinked down...and lost every last bit of mental capacity at the sight of Sango in a delicate squat, balanced on her toes, her face turned up at him while her fingers groped the carpet for the plastic card that had fallen there. Her other hand she'd placed against his thigh, her dark eyes gleamed with amusement, and her mouth—her taunting, wickedly curved mouth—hovered a scant inch from the bulge beneath his zipper. The tip of her tongue flicked out to swipe at her upper lip.

A tremble pulsed through him; an InuYasha-like curse whispered past his lips.

And a cell phone rang. It was a simple, inconspicuous pop song, but it was jarring—and it was coming from her jacket. Sango's smile faded. They stared at each other. Miroku lifted a brow, silently urging her to ignore it. Her eyes said she was considering it.

Kirara gave a loud meowl and sprang from her bored sprawl across the hallway to twine around their feet, surprising them. A strange look crossed Sango's face; she ducked her face to look at Kirara, who gave another, quieter mew. Miroku saw Sango's shoulder's slump just a bit before she inhaled and surged to her feet.

He stepped back and watched in dismay as she dug around in her jacket pocket and came out with a high-end business model in coral pink. She stared at it, her breathing still in the fast and shallow tempo of excitement, and a dark pink flush highlighting her cheeks. Her eyes slid up to his; he glanced askance at her phone, which still tingled with that vaguely familiar song—something overly dramatic and hyper. Whatever it was, it didn't suit her personality at all, in his opinion.

She shrugged. "I hate this song," she said, as if that explained everything.

The song suddenly stopped, and the phone remained quiet.

He didn't have much hope, but he asked anyway. "I don't suppose that was you ignoring it?"

She sucked in another deep breath and looked regretful. "No. They'll call back and keep calling back until I answer."

Miroku nodded, putting a severe, restraining check on his vexation. The mood was gone anyway; he'd lost her almost the moment that cursed phone had rung. They'd shot right past that sizzling eroticism and straight into the awkward discomfiture of passion thwarted, but not entirely abated. "I thought you were on vacation?"

Her eyes flicked away. "I am, but—"

He paused in the midst of pulling his hair back into its short tail and studied her, trying to shake the physical side effects that were just catching on to the fact that he wasn't getting laid after all and were giving him hell for it. Beneath her flush, Sango was pale and anxious, though he was sure she hadn't meant for him to notice. Her fingers had a tight grip around the slim rectangle.

He frowned.

Something was very much troubling the woman in front of him. And whatever that something was, the person on the other end of that phone call was part of it.

"But?" he prompted.

"But you know how big business is. You're never really free." A half-hearted smile, but she still didn't meet his eyes. She turned and swiped the card. "I'm sorry, but I'll have try those fantastic snacks of yours another time."

Miroku's eyes glued themselves to the curved backside that his hands still itched to touch. "And when would this other time be? Shall I special deliver some choice snacks to your room tomorrow?"

She paused with her hands on the open door of her room and gave him a surprised look. Beneath her, Kirara slipped through the crack.

He quirked a brow. "You didn't think I was going to give up and go away so easily?"

Her dark brown eyes blinked, hiding her thoughts. "Of course not," she said, surprising him in turn. "I just didn't expect you to be so...direct."

He smiled and answered bluntness with bluntness because he knew she would appreciate it. "If you were anyone else, perhaps not. But I believe we've just amply demonstrated," he glanced down, bringing unabashed attention to the fact that he was still ready, willing, and more than able to follow her into her room should she change her mind, "that our particular brand of mutual interest is worth a little more directness."

She lifted a brow back at him. "Sex?"

"That," he conceded with an easy nod and a step closer, "and you enjoy my company as much as I enjoy yours." He swept up a lock of her bangs, rubbed the silky bit between his thumb and finger. "With this kind of compatibility, don't you think it would be a waste to delay the fun for the duration of your stay?"

Besides, she was in his mind in a way he hadn't experienced before, an enticing knot of femininity and strength with the sharp spice of mystery. Affection was nothing new to Miroku (he felt affection for _all_ women, with a special fondness reserved for those with whom he'd been intimate), but never had it been accompanied by such a distracting, tenacious prominence in his thoughts. To be frank, even if they had made it into her room that morning and had all the hot, indulgent sex he was determined they would eventually get around to, he would have attempted to see her again.

Her eyes followed his hand for a moment before she let a slow smile curve her lips. It was a promise, that smile, wholly feminine—reminiscent of the control-shattering one she'd given him below him on the floor. Miroku wondered if trying to kiss her again would get him punched. The pain might be worth it.

She pulled her hair away from his grasp by pushing her way into the room. She turned and looked at him as her hand hovered on the handle. "All right. Tomorrow night. Kirara and I will be having an early dinner in that cafe. Don't wait too long, though. We'll be gone by the time the sun sets."

Miroku leaned a shoulder against the wall, not even bothering to hide his grin. "I would never dream of leaving such a lovely woman waiting."

Her last glance was skeptical and dry, and then the door clicked shut. He stayed put for a moment, savoring both the disappointment and the satisfaction. That had gone better than expected, all things considered, and now he was virtually assured access to the delectable body that had so caught his attention the first time he'd seen it, _and_ to the stimulating woman within it. It was an all-around win for him.

His grin slowly faded into a contemplative frown.

That blasted phone call had been odd. Her reaction to it had struck him as not right. He was very curious about who had made it and what that person's relationship with her was. She'd acted almost...afraid. It bothered him to see the woman who had played and teased with him with such attractive confidence reduced to such skittishness and vulnerability, made him want to dig until he found exactly what it was that held her. Ah, but then, perhaps she was just one of those ridiculous workaholics who let every little thing about their job stress them to the very core?

Well that was an interesting possibility. If that was the case, then she was in desperate need of her vacation, and some serious diversion to go along with it. He pushed away from the wall and headed for the exit, happy with the idea. He had a few tricks up his sleeve to help her relax.

The carpeted hallway absorbed his chuckle. Of course, he would have to think of a good excuse to feed InuYasha. "I'm off to pay respects to a tourist's bed," would get his ass kicked. Especially by a sexually frustrated, masochistic half-youkai who was slowly losing an unnecessary battle with himself. Of course, once said half-youkai lost said battle, excuses would be a lot easier to make. He should probably see about speeding things up there.

But first, the hotel was bound to have a guest toilet somewhere around here, and Miroku had never been one to ignore his own discomfort. He pushed away from the wall and wandered toward the front desk, eyes keen for the appropriate sign.

Waste not, want not.

* * *

The next day proved to be quite hectic, with one couple leaving and two more arriving early in the morning and all the busywork that went along with getting them settled and acquainting them with their rooms, the staff, rules, and generally getting them comfortable enough to leave them on their own to explore. Almost all of which fell under his jurisdiction as manager. Good as he was at it, that day he was grateful to have Kagome and Shippou to help. Both woman and kitsune were good with people, and the distractions and delays had started to irritate Miroku. He even counted InuYasha's day-long absorption in his roof tiles project a blessing.

Around lunchtime, finally free and wandering around in search of an excuse to go into Sonkyou, he found Kagome in the kitchen.

Pacing.

On the kitchen table, several trays were laid out with the different dishes she'd made for lunch, all portioned appropriately and waiting to be carried to the guest dining area. The kitchen smelled heavenly, a warm mix of fried vegetables, rice, and cooked meat. Miroku paused just in front of the open door, eyeing first the food, then Kagome as she trekked again from one countertop to the other on the appliance side of the kitchen. She wore a bright green handkerchief on her head to keep her hair back, and her head was bent to watch the floor as she muttered quietly to herself, twisting her fingers together while she paced.

An anxious Kagome was always an interesting sight, because it had the potential to be either very bad or very good, depending on the reason for her anxiety. Come to think of it, she'd been acting quite odd since breakfast. He allowed himself a passing frown before he stepped into the kitchen. "What has our illustrious owner done this time?"

Kagome's pacing jerked to a stop; her head came up to give him a startled look. "What?"

Miroku sighed and gestured. "The guests are gathered in the dining room. The food is ready and waiting to be served. I'm asking why it's still here instead of being enjoyed by our guests."

Her eyes flew to the table and widened. "Oh! Right, I'm sorry, I was just..." She hesitated, an odd look and a hint of color crossing her face. "What makes you think InuYasha's done something?"

"An educated guess?" He suggested dryly, staring at her blush. Then he frowned again. "Is it not?" He couldn't think of anything else that would be bothering Kagome.

_Unless it has something to do with how she ended up near death in the middle of the Daisetsuzan_.

Miroku blinked for moment, shocked to find that he'd had to remind himself of the circumstances of her arrival at the Sachi—a testament to how entangled she'd become with them all. Then he tensed in concern, because if it was that, it couldn't be good.

But Kagome was shaking her head. "No. No, it's not his—" She stopped. Gave a soft, genuine laugh, the tension visibly seeping from her shoulders. She sighed. "You and Kaede both. It's not that he's _done_ anything."

Miroku's eyebrows shot up at the amused warmth in her gaze. "I see." Something he hadn't done, then? Something she wanted (or didn't want) him to do? And what was that about Kaede and him? At least it had nothing to do with her past—a past he was more and more convinced should just stay lost. He relaxed a bit. "Is there something _I_ can help you with?"

She pursed her lips. "Maybe..." She trailed off, and stared him up and down, a contemplative wrinkle forming between her brows.

Miroku didn't like the feeling that he was missing something important. He rarely missed important things. Missing important things happened to InuYasha, not to him. He frowned, his third in as many minutes. "Kagome, if there's a problem, you should tell one of us. Even if it's about InuYasha, we can offer some good advice if it's troubling you."

Her eyes widened and she stared at him a moment longer before she seemed to reach a decision. Her chin firmed and she shook her head with a stubborn smile. "Thank you, Miroku, but I have something else I should do first. I promise to keep it in mind."

He studied her posture, lingering on that smile before he shrugged. Being left in the dark irked him, but he was also confident a little side investigating would reveal the source of her worry; nothing went on long within the Sachi's walls without his knowing. "All right. Then, maybe you'll allow me to assist you with getting the lunch into the dining room where our guests await?" He gestured pointedly to the table and the array of bowls and plates.

Kagome's eyes followed his gesture. She gasped and rushed over to pick up one of the large trays. "Oh no! It's cooling! I was supposed to get it into the dining room before—" She turned, froze. "Did you say the guests are already there?"

Wary of her expression, he nodded.

"Everyone?"

Miroku wrinkled his brow, once again bemused by the turn in the conversation. "Both the Yabukis and Kawasaki-chan and her boyfriend are there, and Hidaka-san is waiting for his wife in their usual corner. Why?"

Kagome sucked in a sharp breath, eyes narrowing. "Oh, is that so?" Her shoulders went stiff again. "Well, then, yes, Miroku, I'd like your help with the trays." And she brushed past him, down the hallway towards the dining room.

Miroku stared after her for a long moment before he quietly and obediently picked up the second tray from the table, wondering what in the world had caused the anger flashing in her eyes, and immensely glad it hadn't been directed at him.

* * *

He helped her distribute the food to their guests, then joined the staff in the kitchen for their own lunch. InuYasha remained on the roof, patching and pounding away while Shippou chattered happily with a still-distracted Kagome. Kaede was unusually quiet and grave, watching Kagome with peculiar caution. After lunch, Kagome shooed Kaede out of the kitchen, asked Miroku to help her collect the dishes from the dining room, and set to her afternoon cleaning with Shippou.

Miroku grabbed the keys and meant to leave right away (before InuYasha came down from the roof), but found himself held up in the front living room, chatting amiably with the elderly Yabukis and the VIP Hidakas. It was his first time really talking with Hidaka-san, and something about the man's manner made him check. The older man's attitude when he complimented the Sachi and its staff didn't sit right; a vague, undefined suspicion bloomed in his brain. He extracted himself from the guests and went in search of Kaede.

Kagome was still in the kitchen with Shippou, making what looked like finger sandwiches. They blinked up from the counter at his inquiry. "Kaede?" Kagome asked. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen her since lunch."

Shippou sprang up, his auburn ponytail bouncing. "I know! She said she needed to sort and mix some of the dried herbs in the cabin." He put a finger to his chin. "Uh-oh. I _think_ I was supposed to go help her."

"Shippou!" Kagome chided. "You should have said something sooner. I would have sent you with her after lunch."

Miroku shook his head and sighed. "Never mind. I'll walk him over."

Kagome blinked at him, her eyes going to the keys inconspicuously hanging from his finger. "To the cabin? I thought you were leaving?"

Miroku shook his head and let Shippou scamper up his arm to hang from his shoulder. "I have something to ask Kaede, I think." Such as, what might be bothering Kagome. He glanced at the clock in the kitchen and winced. "I'll go after that."

"Oh." Kagome looked down, a frown wrinkling her brow. "Good. I'll...let InuYasha know."

Miroku paused halfway out the outside door, studying her a moment. Then he sighed. "Do me a favor? Don't tell him I'm leaving until after I'm gone."

Kagome gave him a distracted glance, but merely nodded. As far as Miroku could tell, he was lucky that she'd responded at all.

"You gonna ask Kaede what's wrong with Kagome?"

Miroku stepped out onto the path and tossed a raised brow back at the kitsune. "You noticed it, too?"

Shippou returned him a superior look. "I'm a kid, not stupid."

Miroku couldn't help his smile. "Do you know what's bothering her?"

Shippou's face fell. "No. I can't figure it out. She's just all fidgety." He brightened. "Hey! You think it's because of InuYasha?"

He frowned. "No. Whatever this is, it isn't a good kind of wrong." The feeling in his mind was nothing more than that—an unease that he couldn't pin down. Perhaps talking to Kaede would help him solidify it into actionable thought.

Shippou looked bewildered but, like Kagome, he only nodded.

* * *

They found Kaede sitting calmly on her knees in the middle of her cabin, various leaves and berries in piles on the floor in front of her; the displeased eye she cast over Shippou had him cowering behind Miroku, then scampering off to find a particular bowl from the small storage room at the back of the well-constructed wooden structure. Miroku smiled pleasantly at her inquiring glance, and spent a few minutes chatting about the Sachi and its guests, feeling for something strange. The more he asked, the more he felt Kaede's answers were suspicious.

It wasn't until Shippou was back and doing something messy with a pestle that Miroku finally got around to being blunt. "You know what's bothering Kagome, don't you?"

Shippou's movements paused, but Kaede continued to pull and separate leaves at her serene pace. "I have promised Kagome not to discuss the matter before she can bring it to InuYasha's attention."

Shippou whirled around. "Ha! I _knew_ it was InuYasha's fault!"

Miroku frowned. "Kaede, is this something I should know about? I don't believe I need to remind you how much is at stake here. Our lives, our freedom. If she's remembered something..."

Kaede's black eyes closed on a heavy sigh. "No. This is nothing that would threaten us in that way. In its own way, the matter is far more mundane than what you imagine." Her eyes opened again, and a faint smile curled her dry lips. "Under the correct circumstances, I suspect it could even benefit you and Shippou in your machinations concerning InuYasha and Kagome."

Miroku's brows crept upward. "Is that so? It's nothing serious, then?"

Kaede's contemplative frown unsettled him a bit, but she finally shook her head. "I cannot discuss it. I have promised Kagome to keep her trouble to my own council for the time being."

Miroku fell silent, musing over the best rhetorical options for pursuing the matter with the particularly stubborn Kaede—something he most certainly would have done, had it not been for the sudden explosion of spiritual energy that overwhelmed him. It was nearby, close enough and powerful enough that it caused frissons of reaction along his spine. He turned wide eyes to the two other equally shocked figures in the room.

Kaede struggle to rise from her knees, while Shippou sat frozen with the bowl in his lap, expression fearful. The kitsune had a tremor in his voice when he spoke. "W-what was that?"

"I take it that wasn't merely my imagination, then?" he asked dryly, helping Kaede to her feet.

"We must hurry. Regardless of the source, such power cannot bode well for any of us."

Miroku paused a moment to study Kaede's grave expression, foreboding twisting his gut. "Recognize it?"

She hesitated. "No. However..."

"Yes. It feels like we _should_, doesn't it?"

Her black eyes speared him. "We must hurry."

* * *

"Fine. Contact him. Maybe _he_ can tell us who the fuck she really is."

Miroku watched with sinking dismay as InuYasha, jaw tight and back stiff, visibly drew back into his own personal shell—the one which had become nearly impenetrable five years ago—before he turned and walked away. Kagome remained in the kitchen, smiling down at Shippou while he quizzed her about the youkai attack.

_She has no idea_, he thought, feeling quiet, anxious, off balance, _what this means to him_.

Or did she? Miroku had never heard of any human being able to suppress their own spiritual essence to the point where others with attuned senses were fooled. And yet, that was the only explanation. Oh, he'd felt the odd twinge from her here and there, but those he'd attributed to the natural ebb and flow of a human with borderline spiritual abilities. Nothing on the scale of what he could sense from her _now_. So either it was a deliberate and incredibly skilled deception, or it was a natural consequence of the traumatic injury that had brought her into the Sachi—a trauma which was, in and of itself, suspicious.

Watching her, frowning, trying to get a grasp on his own sense of reluctant confusion, he desperately wanted to believe that the woman sitting in their kitchen smiling with such affection at their resident little genius was genuine, and not some kind of trap.

A trap made sense...and it didn't. If it _was_ some kind of trap, then what were the supposed hunters waiting for? Why hadn't they sprung it after more than a month? If it was a trap, then the prey should already be dead, captured, or perhaps running once again. Instead, they remained quiet and as harmonious as they ever got with a quick-tempered hanyou boss and their eclectic mix of staffing. If it wasn't for her face, he would be convinced of her innocence...

He hesitated, brow quirking as he wondered if the similar features made such a difference. If she'd looked like someone—anyone—else, would they have been as suspicious? _No_, he had to admit. They would have been suspicious of her, certainly, but not to the degree that they had initially been and remained now after the most recent incident. It was her face that put the majority of them on such a sharp edge—because coincidences like that simply didn't happen. Not without some kind of help.

The question was the nature of the help.

_ Only Shippou_, he thought, his eyes fixing on the kitsune's adoring features, _never met that woman_. Only Shippou had no reason to distrust her because of her looks, and the little youkai trusted her unquestioningly. Her using purifying power hadn't even fazed him.

"Remarkable, is it not?" Kaede spoke up from behind him. "Shippou cares so much for her without any trace of fear or caution."

"Yes," he murmured. "But is it because he knows better, or because he doesn't know enough?" When Kaede didn't answer, he cocked an inquiring brow over his shoulder. "And you? After this, can you say you trust her?"

Kaede's dark gaze was trained past him, through the door to the pair in the kitchen. To his surprise, her mouth had a soft curve to it. "I've never had reason to fear or despise my sister. Only to pity her."

_Unlike InuYasha_.

Miroku followed her gaze and shook his head. "This is bad."

"Yes."

Only a month, and Kagome had become a friend, an ally. It would be quite devastating at this point to find out she was neither. So where did that leave them with their lovely housekeeper? Either she was an enemy, or she was a friend. If she was an enemy, they needed to deal with it immediately; if she was a friend, then her powers would be a useful coincidence. His gut told him she wasn't an enemy, but his mind told him there was something off about the situation in front of him, something of which he needed to be wary.

The key was in her identity. It had always been in her identity, and it was something they could no longer ignore. Miroku sighed. He kept his most sensitive and expensive equipment where no one would just casually come across it. Given the delicacy of his task, he would need it to ask for help. "I'll be in my room."

It wasn't until much later that night, during a random glance at the clock in the corner of his computer screen, that he realized he'd missed his oh-so-important evening appointment.

* * *

Kagome looked up from Shippou's excited face as Kaede shuffled into the kitchen. The older woman was wearing a peculiar smile, as if she'd witnessed something remarkable and unexpected.

Kagome wryly acknowledged the sentiment. Barely an hour earlier, she'd been certain she was going to die. The clarity of the whole thing was so fresh, a reel of passing impressions playing in her mind: the feel of the bark digging into her back, the numbing cold of the snow against her suddenly slipper-less feet, the oddly familiar acceptance that came in the face of death, the sudden shock of energy as it burst from a place inside her she hadn't known existed, and the stunned realization that she was still alive.

And that flash. That oh-so-brief, tantalizing flash of...something important.

"How are you feeling, child?" Kaede's dark eyes regarded her kindly.

Kagome grimaced. "I feel...tired." And weak. Every muscle in her body trembled with fatigue. Her mind felt vaguely numb, but her hands shook as if she were shocked and in need of sugar. She brought her hands together in her lap and folded them tightly. "Is InuYasha all right? Did you look at his side?"

He'd had his tongue in her mouth, his hands on parts of her bare skin she usually kept covered—and then they'd both been scrambling for their lives. It had happened so quickly that parts of her were still warm and humming and achingly aware of what they'd almost done out there in the forest, against a tree. She could still feel the urgency like a subtle thrum in her blood.

Her fingers twisted together.

But the look on InuYasha's face right after the attack, across the carnage of the landscape...

Disbelief. _Dismay_. His expression had left her with the most terrible, sinking sensation.

And then, when Miroku and the others had come running up, InuYasha had stopped looking at her; he hadn't glanced her way since. He'd actually _volunteered_ to help Miroku with the guests while Kaede sat her down in the kitchen and examined her, and he hadn't made an appearance even when Miroku joined them and contributed a few questions of his own. In the meantime, no one had paid any attention to her protests that the bloody patch in his side be looked at.

Kaede sighed. "InuYasha refused to allow me to tend to him in any way. He insists he's fine."

Kagome's lips thinned. "I knew it. That idiot." She started to stand, only to be brought up short by Kaede's gnarled hand on her shoulder.

"His wounds are already healing, and they are not serious. I believe the best course of action is to leave him be for the moment."

In other words, he was at his anti-social best right now? Did that mean he didn't want to see anyone? Or did he just not want to see _her_?

Kagome stared up at her, hurt and not sure why. She swallowed around the knot of confusion in her throat, struggling against the equally strong impulses to storm off, find him, and demand that he at least let Kaede help him, or go to her room and give in to tears—and neither reaction made much sense. Instead, she let her tired body relax into the kitchen chair and focused on her hands. "Really? That's...good, I guess."

Even though she had the sneaking suspicion that it actually wasn't.

Kaede's smile returned and, much to Kagome's dismay, she insisted that Kagome rest while Kaede and Shippou commandeered the kitchen for the rest of the day's chores.

* * *

Kagome was right, as she found out later that evening during dinner when InuYasha remained conspicuously absent during all parts of the meal.

It wasn't good. Nothing was good.

Kaede was acting strangely now, too, looking almost pleased and insisting that the daily schedule be rearranged to accommodate "further testing of Kagome's abilities". Miroku sat quiet through the meal, watching her calmly, but not so calmly that she couldn't detect the underlying caution and wariness in his dark violet gaze. From both of them, she sensed a curiosity and a hesitance that hadn't been there before. Only Shippou seemed unaffected. The rest of them had reverted to treating her as if she were the stranger she'd been when she'd first woken up. It hurt her. It confused her. It was as if she'd done something _wrong_, and she couldn't figure out what, exactly, that wrong thing was.

They hadn't let her help with cooking and guests during dinner, but she'd felt recovered enough after the meal (no more shaky limbs, her mind clearer, less numb) that she'd insisted on them letting her help with the cleanup. As Shippou and Miroku slowly ferried dishes from the deserted dining room to the kitchen where Kaede was washing, Kagome started wiping down tabletops, and wondered what had happened.

Her new-found powers were the source of it, she was sure. Deep inside, Kagome knew what she'd done to defend herself against the attacking youkai was something as natural to her as breathing—so much so that she hadn't even realized she'd done anything special until, a few moments after the youkai had vanished, she'd found herself still alive. When she tried to reach inside her brain and take it apart step by step, she ran up against the same blank, empty space that had been plaguing her since her awakening; but Kaede's questions had brought out automatic responses, as if her mouth had just been waiting for the right words to which to respond. Kagome didn't understand how she could know something and not know it at the same time; she understood even less why any of it would produce such an odd reaction from the people she trusted, relied on, and...more. But she had the queasy feeling she did, and it had.

All she'd done was defend herself—and InuYasha. Was that really so horrible? Was it enough to make her less trustworthy than she had been before?

Mid-swipe, her hand wavered, and a chill bristled the hairs along her arm.

There was something else. One more thing that she couldn't bring herself to tell anyone because she didn't know if it would make things better or worse. It was a spark, just a fragment of something that had come to her in that moment of automatic power: a face.

It was less actual details than it was shadows and feelings. She didn't know what anyone would be able to glean from it if she did mention it, because the image in her mind was so piecemeal and ethereal: some kind of mask, eyes obscured by shade, a sense of deep respect, admiration, a little healthy fear. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to recognize this face if it were to appear in front of her now. What she _was_ sure of was this snippet, this foreign-but-familiar presence in her mind represented knowledge completely apart from anything she'd encountered at the Sachi. Her brief power flux had stirred up something from _before_, something she knew was important—but with the way everyone was reacting, she wasn't sure what to do with it.

Shippou, Miroku, Kaede...InuYasha. She valued them, cherished them for giving her a home and a family when she'd had nothing at all, not even a name. What if mentioning this weird—Memory? Vision? Hallucination?—pushed them further away?

She finished wiping down the last table and stopped, kneeling on an end cushion and staring blankly at the hand-painted screens decorating the walls. Cranes, dragons and youkai danced enchantingly among the forested mountains of the Daisetsuzan, but she didn't actually see them. The guest dining room was peaceful and warm, a comforting contrast to the excitement of the day and the guests during the meal. Kagome's head drooped, and she let it rest on the cushion of one arm while she idly picked at the smooth tabletop with a finger.

Worry for InuYasha sat like a stone in her stomach, wearing her down, wearing her out. She hadn't seen InuYasha since the battle in the woods, but she _wanted_ to. She wanted to see him, touch him, make sure with her own five senses that he was all right. With _all_ of her five senses. She wanted to throw her arms around him and feel the heat of his body, hear the thump of his heart beating against her ear, smell the wild earthiness of his skin. She wanted to go back to that moment before the attack, when she'd felt recklessly, deliciously free to do all that and more.

Her heart kicked up in tempo, and she curled her fingers into a fist against the table.

What they'd done in the woods...that hadn't been some small, meaningless kiss, not some accidental contact cause by early morning drowsiness. She'd been arched against him, ready and willing to have him inside her; he'd been fumbling at her clothes like some eager teenager and using his mouth with the rough finesse of an adult; the contrast had been maddening in an entirely sensual way.

_He'd had his fingers inside her body; she'd had hers on the most intimate part of his_.

The thought, the memory, caused a delicious thrill to throb low in her belly, and that pleasant, hungry ache to settle deep between her thighs, the corresponding wetness to dampen them. They'd both known exactly what they were doing, and even if they might not have been thinking with particular clarity, they'd both been more than willing to do it.

_And_, she thought with another heated thrill, _I think I'm willing to do it again_.

But he'd shut down so fast. Had her display of power ruined it for them, or was he just surprised that she had this unknown element inside her and unsure how to handle it? But then, why give her that haunted look? Why show her such a face if it didn't mean more than she knew?

That was what it came down to, she suspected. The things she didn't know—why the four of them had come here, what their lives had been like before, what event or reasoning had bound such different people so tightly together. None of them had ever actually come out and said as much, but Kagome suspected that it had been something traumatic. She wished they trusted her enough to tell her what it was so she could stop stepping on land mines she didn't know were there; she'd never be fully a part of Sachi and its inhabitants until they did.

More than anything, she wished _InuYasha_ trusted her enough. What they had between them—that thing, that undeniable force that kept pushing and pulling them together, wasn't something they could just ignore. What it meant, she wasn't entirely sure yet; but if he didn't start trusting her, they'd never find out.

Depressed at the thought, she adjusted her head on her arm and sighed.

* * *

InuYasha peered across the room at her from just outside the door, baffled by how small and comfortable and harmless she looked, curled against the table like that, when after the afternoon's battle he knew she was anything but. She didn't know he was there, so he felt safe for the moment in his lookout position in the hallway.

He didn't know what he was doing here anyway. He should stay away from her. He _knew_ he should stay away from her, especially after what had almost happened—and then what _had_ happened—earlier just inside the treeline. It was just that he'd been so _desperate_. Desperate to have her. Desperate to save her, and then desperate to get away from her. And now desperate to see her, to make sure she was still all right.

He'd been doing so well all afternoon, secluded in his room where no one could see his thoughts, the turmoil that old memories brought him when he was forced to dwell on them. To his way of thinking, the emergence of her powers was a mind-bogglingly Bad Thing. It raised un-ignorable questions about her past, stuff he seriously didn't want to go digging for, questions everything inside of him constricted at the thought of answering. It was yet another connection to _her_, another potential link to the problems that had brought them to the Sachi, another danger to them all. Another reason to avoid her and the strange connection he felt with her. And yet, it hadn't escaped his notice that her powers were also the reason she was still alive.

He'd failed to protect her from the youkai. Categorically, unequivocally failed. If she hadn't been able to purify them, he would have been too late to save her. And that, more than anything on this earth could have, tortured him.

So he'd spent hours alone, brooding over the past, over mistakes and stupid decisions he'd made before and events and memories he'd thought he'd successfully managed to push into the corner of his life with all the other Things That Didn't Matter.

And then, when the guilt was thick, after dinner was surely over and everyone off in pursuit of their own little interests, the solitude had finally gotten to him, and he'd gone for a walk—not outside, where he normally walked or ran (where no one bothered him and he could continue his seclusion without the confinement) but inside. Where the people were. Where he would normally never wander while his thoughts harassed him. In the general direction of the kitchen—but only because he'd missed dinner and was hungry. Not because worry beat at him with greater urgency than the agony of his own past. Of course not. And there had been no release of tension, no silent sigh of relief when he'd followed a stray whiff of her scent to find her whole and healthy in the guest dining room. Absolutely not.

He gritted his teeth in frustration as he watched her pointlessly pick at the table with a finger, and flexed his fingers, his claws at his side.

He didn't understand it. He was used to the solitude, the quiet, the living with his own thoughts apart from the eyes of prying strangers and the distraction of busy places. He didn't mind the company of his friends, but he'd never really needed it. So why was he struggling with the wayward urge to go in there and just sit with her—no words, no sounds or contact necessary, just going in and sitting near her on one of the cushions that served as seats? He couldn't possibly be forgetting already that she could very well be an enemy. Her face, her powers, the bullet wound that had left her for dead in the middle of an icy river, everything pointed to a _wrongness_ about her presence here.

Maybe he just needed to keep an eye on her. Yeah, that was it. He needed to keep an eye on her in case something really _was_ off, so he would know if she tried anything to sabotage them.

She sighed and shifted her head against her arm. He drew in a deep breath...and froze, all thoughts in limbo, because her scent was heavy with the same thick lust that had blown his brain cells outside in the treeline, and his gut clenched in immediate response. His flexing fingers curled and stayed there, digging into his palms as he fought the urge to step inside, to follow the delicious smell to its source. His muscles trembled with the effort, because he wanted it, just as strongly as before, regardless of what she was or whom she might be.

Really, did it matter all that much? When all he had to do was scent her, and he was just as hard and aching and ready as he had been in the woods, against that tree, when the only thing that had stopped them from being joined completely was a few moments and a zipper? A second or two longer and he'd have been slipping inside her, gripped tight by the heated slickness that had coated his fingers—and far too distracted to notice the youkai bearing down on their next meal. A soft growl rumbled in his chest, too low and subtle for her to have possibly caught it, but she lifted her head anyway.

Before he could step back, out of her line of sight, her head had turned, and her wide, stunned eyes had caught his. She gasped and surged to her feet, one smooth, fluid motion of unfolding limbs and swishing hair. InuYasha froze, panicked, unable to step back, unable to move forward, unable to say anything.

Behind her, in the opposite doorway, one of the guests—a tall, skinny guy with glasses whose name InuYasha couldn't remember, but whose vaguely pungent scent he recognized—came into view. He saw Kagome and a weird smile twisted his lips and he stepped forward, mouth opening as if to say something only to stop when he noticed InuYasha. He hesitated and closed his mouth, his eyes moving keenly from Kagome to InuYasha and back again, before he abruptly turned on his heel and left. Kagome, still staring at him, hadn't even notice the human. InuYasha frowned.

"InuYasha?"

He blinked, a little surprised by her voice even though he'd been expecting her to say something. "What?" he asked, gruff, his surprise lending his voice normalcy even while his body still thrummed with more-than-normal hunger.

Kagome hesitated, looking unsure. "You're...all right? I was worried about you. You didn't even come to dinner."

He grunted. "I wasn't hungry."

"Oh." She paused, pressing her lips together for a moment. "Your side. You were bleeding pretty bad earlier. Is it—"

"I'm fine," he said, cutting her off because he was afraid if she asked to look at it, he'd let her. The anticipation that rolled through his gut at the thought told him that would be a bad idea. "It's almost healed now."

"Oh."

She seemed disappointed, and he hated that she looked so awkward and unsure. He stepped forward, forcing his hands to unclench, his body to relax. He should be clipped and distant with her, but he couldn't force it when she looked like that. His voice was gruff, grudging. "What about _you_? You're the one whose body is so weak. Kaede said that you'd be tired for a while." Kaede had also said that her power would rival a certain someone else's, which made her infinitely more dangerous to him than many of his enemies over the years could ever have been, but he wasn't about to volunteer that information to her.

Kagome smiled—just a small one, but her face lost most of its tension in the doing. "I'm fine. They didn't let me help with dinner or the clean-up, so I've been resting most of the day." She took another step forward, and InuYasha suddenly realized with an internal start that they were quite close. Another frown flitted across his features. How had he gotten so far into the dining room?

Kagome reached out and brushed her fingers along the back of his hand, a simple gesture that sent slow, electric heat licking to life just beneath the surface of his skin. He stiffened. Awareness flickered into the gray darkness of her eyes, but she didn't moved away. She just sounded breathless when she spoke. "I wanted to thank you. This is the second time that you've saved me."

He scowled, and immediately stepped back, away from the burn of her skin. "_I_ didn't save you. You saved yourself with that power that none of us knew anything about," he snapped at (or maybe accused?) her, himself, the Sachi itself. "It's stupid to thank me."

For a second, she looked like he'd slapped her. Then—_hot damn, but he wanted to pounce on her when she did that—_she lifted her chin and straightened her spine until her chest thrust proudly in front of her. "Fine. I won't thank you for saving me. I'll thank you for _trying_." Her eyes snapped with the smallest hint of the temper he knew she had and for which he had a healthy respect. "Not many people would have gone that far, you know."

He snorted. "I'm not like 'many people'."

Her lips twitched, sudden humor sparkling in her eyes. "I already know _that_."

He blinked at her, suspicious. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Kagome's only answer was another smile, hesitant, shy. "Do you want...some dinner? I'm pretty sure there are leftovers in the fridge."

InuYasha paused. He was hungry, of course, but her question felt like it had more to it than simple food. She was asking about something else, too, and while he wasn't very good with subtle, he could guess it had something to do with the brief, addictive moment of insanity they'd shared earlier, before she'd complicated everything by saving herself and making herself suspect and untrustworthy all at the same time. Just like _her_.

No, that wasn't true either, because he'd actually trusted _her_. And look where it had gotten him.

_But you didn't really, did you_?

He wanted to snarl at it, that damn voice.

_Maybe this time you should try really trusting. If you did that, finishing what you started in the woods wouldn't be a problem, would it_?

That scared him, because of how much he actually wanted to follow that damn insidious voice in his head and just give in. Grab her arm and lead her off to his room. It would be so easy, and oh, how he wanted it. But it wasn't just him, and he couldn't risk putting everyone he was responsible for protecting in danger.

_Yeah, sure. Tell yourself that's the only reason_.

And because he couldn't answer, because he was suddenly too frustrated to even look hard at what she really meant, he practically snarled at her. "Stop worrying about me! I was just making sure you were okay, since it was my fault in the first place. Just...go rest and be ready to get back to work tomorrow."

She inhaled sharply, then came the familiar lift and stiffen. "Sorry for caring." Her voice was quiet, angry, with a layer of hurt that made him wince. "Good night, then."

Thankfully, she didn't give him any time to regret or make an idiot of himself by trying to make it right. She just swept right past him, leaving her rich scent right in his face and all around him, leaving the smooth sensation of her arm brushing against his, and the heat of wanting her deep in his gut, trembling in fury that he was just letting her walk away. But his feet stayed glued to the floor, because she was a miko, because her face was familiar (and why the hell did he have to keep reminding himself of that – as if it wasn't smack dab in front of him every moment he looked at her?), because they had no idea if she was here to hurt them or help them, and because he knew that he was in another situation where if he went after her, he probably wouldn't stop with just making sure she was okay. They'd end up secluded, together, behind a closed door somewhere. Probably naked.

And he couldn't let that happen, could he?

So he waited, ears pricked and body quivering on a precarious edge, until he heard the faint thump that meant her door had slammed safely shut, and then he headed for the bracing cold outside, because he sure as hell wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. Again.

* * *

_Tokyo_

It was a late night, part of the usual routine for the past few years, and the vast majority of the underground offices were quiet. This late, most of the office personnel had gone home; but in order to maintain the cover of their everyday lives, the largest part of his agents reported in at odd hours, so he expected the activity levels to rise at some point before he left for the evening. For the moment they had a rare instance of calm.

He was secluded in the luxury of his office, blinds covering over the front wall of windows so that he didn't have to see what little bustling went on in the main room while he reviewed (mostly just signed without reading) the backlog of various release and requisition forms that had been building up over the past month. His personal assistant had been hiding them from him out of pure fear of his reaction—wisely—but the stack had finally grown too big to ignore. Paperwork was the bane of his existence, as it had been his fathers' before him, and on the rare occasion that he was forced to deal with it, his mood became dangerous for those foolish enough to antagonize him. Or look at him.

Which was why he was surprised to hear the knock on his door, though he schooled the emotion deep so it didn't show on his face. His fingers hesitated mid-page-flip over the file in front of him. "Come."

His nose told him who was knocking, so looking up was unnecessary but he did it anyway since it afforded him the opportunity to glare at the small, intensely green head (at a maximum height that barely reached the top of his desk)that poked cautiously around the side of the solid oak door. The glare was highly effective, if the sweat-sheen that formed on the hairless dome was any indication, a fact which served to sooth the general irritation that had afflicted him since he'd found the mountain of papers waiting on his desk earlier that afternoon.

The reptilian head bobbed in deference. "My lord, forgive my intrusion, but a matter has just come up." He hesitated, waited, fidgeted, then cleared his throat. "It is...somewhat delicate."

He narrowed his eyes, considering the implicit request. After a moment of letting the little youkai stew in his increasing sweat, he flipped the file closed with quiet relish and sat back into the cushions of his chair, focusing his attention on his assistant. "Close the door."

The imp stepped into his office and shut the door with his back, head still bowed and body still fidgeting. The silence stretched out, and his eyes narrowed further, a displeased rumble brewing in his chest. His claws tapped at the pile of papers in front of him, and he had to make a conscious effort to keep his more poisonous impulses in check. As satisfying as turning the red tape nuisance into insignificant vapor would be, he refused to put himself through the inconvenience of having to go through them all again after they'd been reprinted.

Another nervous throat-clear finally broke the silence. "There's been a communication."

He let his brow quirk, a miniscule hitch that—for him—spoke volumes. "Communication."

"From Hokkaido. A highly encrypted e-mail via the back-door security channels. The sender used classified codes to bypass all the usual checks and send it straight through to your personal account."

The brow hitched a little higher at the unexpected response. That fool of a hanyou had been sulking and uncommunicative from his imposed seclusion for the past five years. That any of that group had reached out now was certain to mean nothing but trouble for all of them. "Concerning?"

Another hesitation. "There's been some unusual activity at the Sachi."

He was losing patience with his assistant's dodging. He sat forward, steepling his fingers so that he could angle his golden eyes over the deadly corrosive weapons at their tips, and sighed. "Unusual."

The little green imp knew his moods well. He straightened his back and stepped forward. "Suspicious, my lord. According to the monk, InuYasha found and rescued a young woman last month who had been shot in the head and left for dead in the forest. Apparently, she's been staying with them since then, but only recently has InuYasha consented to requesting an information search." He swept a low bow and indicated the computer screen on his desk. "I've transferred the decrypted contents for your review. Forgive me, my lord, but I think you'd prefer to read the details for yourself."

"Only recently," he murmured with contempt, shoving papers aside and tapping out a few commands on his keyboard to call up the specific document. Anything as suspicious as the circumstances described should have been reported immediately, regardless of InuYasha's idiotic pride. The kitsune he dismissed, but the monk and the elder priestess should have known better. Any potential compromise would have to be dealt with.

_ The fools think they're on an extended vacation_.

The monk's report was, as his had always been, well-constructed and highly detailed, which plunged his mood even further downward. He hated reading detailed reports; like his father, he'd always preferred to review the initial oral report and send the written one off to those nearly worthless beings who were most suited to wasting their time reading them. But this one...

His hand curled up into a loose fist as he read:

_ Disturbing circumstances...amnesia...unable to track origin or travel points...suspicious features..._(suspicious features?)_...Spiritual powers to ward off attack...deemed by Kaede to match or surpass the power attributed to_...

They should have made contact _weeks_ _ago_.

A quiet growl made it past his throat. He didn't take his eyes from the screen. "Find out who this human is. All resources. Contact the monk and tell him to send a pict—"

He stopped as the slow scroll of the screen reached the bottom of the page, and an image came into view. InuYasha, on the floor in some kind of storage room with what he assumed to be the human female in question in his lap. That idiot hanyou had his arms wrapped around her in a manner that could only be described as _cuddling_. They both slept, but the female's profile struck a disturbingly familiar chord.

He'd only met _that woman_ once, but _her_ face was not something he would forget, not after the damage a mere human had managed to do to their name and family. Fury and disbelief had him digging his claws into the buttery leather of his office chair; hissing smoke-streams curled into the air, and he ignored his assistant's stifled groan at the destruction.

In his sleep, InuYasha held the woman with the same human affection that had cursed their father. The same human affection that had recently blinded and cursed his half-brother; the human affection for which InuYasha had sacrificed everything, and gotten nothing in return. Did he honestly not understand why he'd found himself banished to Hokkaido?

Beneath the photo, a caption, because the monk had always had an unfathomably inappropriate sense of humor: _Cute, aren't they_?

That weak _fool_.

"Jaken," he bit out. Quiet. Soft. Outwardly calm.

Jaken squawked and bowed low, his voice squeaking. "Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama?"

"Get a different picture."

"Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama."

* * *

A/N: ~echo~ Hello! ~echo~ Quill here, updating from a mini-vacation, and happy the chapter is done. It's long, and hopefully satisfying, and hopefully not abandoned by those who've already invested time in reading it?

Ah, well. I'm mostly satisfied with this chapter (as, ideally, is everyone who came back to read it?), and I'm very happy to finally be graduated with my English degree (which is where dear Quill disappeared to for so long this most recent time around. Yea, me! A four-year degree in six(-ish). Whoo-hoo. ^_^) . I'm also quite satisfied with the way the next chapter is going so far, so we'll have to see how that goes in the next few weeks, right?

Anyway, thanks so much for sticking with it, and let me know if I've still got it after so long. And, I supposed I should thank dear JMaxwell, for giving me a place to write that really kick-started the block that I was dealing with. ^_~ So, there you go. I won't admit that you're a muse, but you're darn close. XD (ETA: I take it back! Stay away from my computer, you freaking story saboteur!)

For my own selfish pleasure, please enjoy!

~Quill


	16. Kikyou

Woops! Lime alert, lime alert. A twist of citrus for flavor. Extreme caution past this point. Thank you. ^_^

* * *

** Chapter 15: Kikyou**

* * *

_She was running. _

_ She was running through thick, clinging darkness that sapped the energy from her legs when she needed it most. Invisible clawed hands reached out from the darkness to snag at her, to tangle in her hair and scratch at her stomach and breasts, to draw fresh blood each time she tugged out of their grasp. Her lungs felt broken and numb, and hopelessness sat cold and heavy in her stomach, a weight that pulled her further down with each step. _

_ She was being chased. The darkness closed in around her, and she fell_.

* * *

Her head hurt.

Halfway through lifting a stack of bowls from one of the tables in the dining room, Kagome paused, drew in a sharp, silent breath, and massaged her fingertips against her temple. She'd woken with a headache, but it was the dull, background kind that she'd chosen to ignore. The moments of heightened pain that kept intruding on her day, however, were harder work through.

It was stress. It had to be. Between yesterday's excitement and the unfathomably strained atmosphere left in its wake, and the restlessness that had kept her from sleeping well during the night, she'd been feeling uncomfortable and tense all day.

"Housekeeper-san, are you all right?" Young Kawasaki-chan, one of the only guests still lingering over lunch while she waited for her boyfriend to finish with an afternoon bath, broke through the pain and distracted her. Kagome inhaled again, and by the time she'd breathed out, the throbbing had receded back into the distance.

She forced a smile for the woman who was staring up at her with such concern. "I'm fine. Just a little tired. It's been hectic recently."

Kawasaki-chan nodded. "After that horrible attack yesterday, it's a wonder you're not still in bed. I probably would be. Maybe you should take some time off for yourself? I'm sure your friends wouldn't mind, given what you went through."

Her friends. If only she could feel as certain as the young woman in front of her seemed. Yesterday's incident felt as if it had changed something of the dynamic in the Sachi, put its residents on edge around her. The change was subtle and Kagome struggled to define what, exactly, it was; Miroku and Kaede hadn't been unfriendly, just delicate and cautious—as if she were a puzzle, or an oddity to be studied, and she wasn't sure what to make of their reaction. The morning's meal had felt strange, filled with both easy, neutral conversations and quiet, measuring glances. Thankfully Shippou had been there to temper the strangeness with his bright chatter, otherwise things between the adults might have gotten awkward. And afterwards, when Shippou had scampered off to work on some of the daily lessons Miroku had been assigning him, she had felt the distance even more—

Her back straightened and she set the bowls down, to Kawasaki-chan's blinking surprise.

Distance. That's what it felt like. Small moments of distance that hadn't been there before.

InuYasha had already made his desire for distance painfully clear the previous night. The pounding had started on the roof again sometime while she and Kaede were preparing breakfast early that morning, but he hadn't made an appearance all day, not even after the noises from above had stopped and everyone had been involved in their plans for the day. Kagome hadn't encountered him, seen him, or even felt his presence since the dining room. Not once.

"Housekeeper-san? Do you need me to get someone for you?"

Kagome drew in a deep breath and sighed it out before she plucked up the stack of bowls once again. "No, I'm fine, Kawasaki-chan. Thank you for your concern, but it's nothing." She whirled, heading for a hasty exit, only to bump into a smiling Mrs. Hidaka as she entered the room. The stack of dishes wobbled in her palms, but she managed to re-balance with the older woman's apologetic assistance.

"Housekeeper-san, I was wondering if you knew where I could find the manager? My husband said he wasn't feeling well and wanted to nap for a while, so I was thinking I'd like to explore one of those lovely hiking trails the manager was telling us about when we arrived."

Kagome blinked at her. "Your husband is..." She knew a polite host would inquire about Mr. Hidaka's needs, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. If Mr. Hidaka suffered in agony for the rest of his stay with them, she would bless that god that had stricken him and thank him/her/it for the reprieve. Unrepentant over the thought, she attempted a fumbling shift of her stack that nearly sent them tumbling for a second time, then managed to shake her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure exactly where Miroku is right now. Have you tried the front desk or one of the common rooms?"

"The front rooms...yes, thank you. I'll try there. Again, I apologize for bumping into you, Housekeeper-san."

Kagome watched the woman flit out the way she'd come in, relieved that she hadn't seemed to notice the Sachi housekeeper's lack of concern for her husband, and wondering how such a nice woman could be married to such a horrible man. After a moment, she shrugged them both away and made her way back to the kitchen. Kaede already had the dishes in the sink, and stood with her back to the door.

Kagome deposited the bowls on the counter. "That's the last of it. Kawasaki-chan is still waiting, but she let me have her dishes. All that's left is to finish wiping the tables down."

Kaede's response was a good-natured grunt. Kagome hesitated, then stepped back and watched for a while, her thoughts churning, trying to decide if the distance was real, trying to understand _why_ if it was.

"What is it, child?"

She started. "What?"

Kaede didn't look up from the soap covering her gnarled hands. "Is there something you'd like to speak with me about? You seem troubled."

"Troubled..." She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, dread building in her chest. "Kaede, you're a miko, aren't you?"

Kaede did look up then, and her dark eyes were filled with surprise. "Long ago. I obviously no longer spend my days in a shrine. Why?"

"So if that had been you being attacked yesterday, instead of me, you could have done the same thing, couldn't you?"

A fond, wry smile twisted Kaede's lips. "It is...unlikely that the outcome would have been the same for me."

"Why?"

"Because you are far stronger than I. Very few humans have the innate talent to purify through touch alone. The vast majority of us must use conduits such as weapons or sutras to direct and control our power. The ability you demonstrated is unique, limited to only those with the strongest, purest forms of power."

Kagome's heart sank. "We're not the same, then."

"No. You are far above me in terms of raw talent and potential."

"Am I dangerous to Shippou or...or any of the other youkai here?"

An uncomfortable emotion flickered in Kaede's gaze. "Not unless you wish to be. The humans who work with police and the government train for many years before they are able to put their gifts to any practical use. The amount of control and skill you used to save both yourself and InuYasha, despite such a remarkable expenditure of power, leads me to believe you have already been taught such things." Her expression was gentle, but her eyes curious. "The only way you could hurt anyone is if you were trying. There is no need for you to fear for us."

"Yes, but—"

_Most people believe that the spiritually talented exist to help both human and youkai alike, to foster peace and safety. They're wrong_.

A whisper in her head, disembodied and genderless. Shock froze Kagome to the spot. Her head was throbbing again, in an almost-but-not-quite-painful way that both was and was not a headache. She punched her fingertips hard against her forehead, trying to control it. Panic, fine as a butterfly's wings, kicked up a violent beat in her chest, and something pushed its way out of that blank void in her mind where so many of her memories should have been.

_Hundreds of years ago, perhaps, they would have been right. But now..._.

"Kagome, what is wrong? Are you in pain?"

_Control. Destruction. Profit. What was once a serious struggle has become a game. We are_...

"If something is hurting you, you must tell me."

_You are_...

Overwhelmed by a wave of cold fear, Kagome shook her head, rejecting the whispers with harsh, emphatic jerks. Pain—real pain—crashed through her brain and the voice vanished, along with whatever knowledge had been trying to assert itself. She sucked in a breath, clutched at her temples, and doubled over. Her stomach rebelled, and for a moment she thought lunch might make an undignified reappearance. Kaede called her name again and hurried towards her, worry vibrant in her voice.

By the time Kaede reached her, the pain had ebbed. Kaede's hands were reaching for Kagome's head as she slowly, cautiously, straightened, her palms sliding away from her face. She tried to focus on Kaede, but the older woman seemed strangely blurry. Kagome blinked, and her vision cleared as she felt wetness seep down her cheeks.

Tears? Why was she crying? Why was there so much pain and sorrow clogging up her chest?

Kaede looked stunned. She pressed a hand to Kagome's forehead, her face intense with concentration. "What happened, child?"

"I don't—" Somewhere deep inside, she was trembling. "No, I'm—"

_I heard a strange voice, and it was telling me things I don't understand_.

The words died on her tongue, because she was suddenly terrified. It was a clutching sense of terror, one that locked up her throat and refused to let anything resembling sound past it. She had the sense of standing at the edge of a cliff and looking out over a vast nothingness, the sense that going any further would mean the loss of something infinitely precious to her. It didn't make any sense, but that didn't matter; she just couldn't talk about it. "I'm fine. Just a...headache." Even though the pain was almost gone, and receding as they spoke.

Kaede seemed taken aback. "Oh? Is that so?" Kaede's black gaze met hers, wise, searching. "Is there nothing you wish to tell me?"

Of course Kaede didn't believe her. Kagome wouldn't have believe her, either. She bit her lip and pleaded silently for Kaede not to push. "No." Voices in one's head weren't something one automatically shared, even with the most trusted of friends—not to mention that odd terror that had just pinned her to the spot like a specimen on display. _Not yet. Not before I've had time to absorb it_. "I'll go finish the dining room now. And then I was thinking of taking a nap, if that's all right with you? I didn't sleep well last night."

Kaede studied her silently, and Kagome held her breath until the older woman's slow nod indicated her acceptance. "Perhaps that would be wise, given that you're not feeling well."

Kagome relaxed a bit and returned the nod. "Thank you." They both knew what she was truly thanking Kaede for, and they both knew it was only a temporary reprieve. She would have to talk about it soon; she would have to find a way to confront the things rising up inside her.

She started to turn away, but Kaede stopped her.

"What of the guests, Kagome? Any difficulties?"

"Difficulties? Why—" Oh. Right. Hidaka-san. Funny how, in less than a day, he'd become the least of her problems. She pursed her lips. "No. Hidaka-san seems to be feeling ill as well. His wife left him in their room. I don't think he'll be a problem for today."

_ And hopefully not for the rest of the week, either_.

A troubled expression crossed Kaede's face, but she simply nodded again. "Rest well this afternoon. I'll need you for dinner."

* * *

Kaede found InuYasha outside, high in a tree, lying along a thick branch and brooding at the sky. He could have avoided her—he'd smelled her coming way before he'd heard or seen her—but he wasn't in the mood to move. Not that he was particularly in the mood for any of her wise recriminations, either, so aggravation was already gnawing at him by the time she came into communicating distance.

He had a damn good reason for spending avoiding the Sachi, for staying away from the miko in his place. She knew damn well what finding out about Kagome's powers had done to him. She couldn't just leave him the hell alone about it?

Kaede didn't have Miroku's patience, or his subtlety. "InuYasha. Why haven't you done something about Mr. Hidaka?"

The words of dismissal he had prepared clogged up in his throat and his eyes darted down to glare stupidly at Kaede. "Huh?"

Kaede sounded…. Oh hell, Kaede sounded really pissed off. And she glared right back at him, eyes hard and obsidian. "Kagome's situation with Hidaka-san hasn't changed. I had thought that you would do something about it by now—recent events not withstanding, Kagome is still one of the Sachi's staff, and such a situation simply cannot be tolerated by the Sachi's proprietor."

He blinked, then slowly came up to a sitting position on the branch. "What the hell are you talking about, you crazy old hag?"

"Hidaka-san, InuYasha. Kagome came to me with her problem first, and I assured her that you would handle it. I understand that much happened yesterday**,** but I cannot allow his treatment of her to continue any longer. I had assumed you would understand the necessity of seeing to it quickly. "

_Treatment?_

Something unpleasant sprouted in his gut. InuYasha scowled down at the old woman, thoroughly irritated that he wasn't following the conversation properly. "I still don't know what the hell you're talking about, you old hag. What problem? I didn't hear anything about a—"

_ Problem_. He sucked in a breath and his spine straightened.

_I have a…problem, and I was hoping you could help me with it_.

Oh, damn. She hadn't been talking about sex, had she? No, of course not; it didn't make sense, not after the relative peace they'd had for the past few days. He was the obsessed moron who'd jumped to conclusions. He blinked a few more times before his scowl returned in full and black force, and suspicion bloomed in the back of his mind. "What problem, and who the hell is Hidaka-san?"

_And just what the hell is he doing to give Kagome problems_?

Less than a minute later, he was off the tree and storming across the terrain towards the Sachi. Kaede yelled after him, but the only things he heard her say kept repeating in gentle, tortuous rhythm in his head.

_Inappropriate attention…propositioning…blackmail…touching Kagome..._

_Touching Kagome_.

The red haze was back over his vision, and the youkai inside him licked its chops in anticipation of blood. For once, his human impulses and his youkai impulses were in complete accord, infuriated beyond reason. He didn't even care that he didn't know which of the guests Kaede was talking about. He'd just track the bastard down and slice off his scummy hands.

Kagome was one of his. She was under his protection, and had been since the fucking moment she'd come into the Sachi. That the bastard had dared to violate or harm anyone in his territory was unforgivable. But the fact that he'd violated Kagome—

A deep, snarling growl rumbled up from his gut, into his chest, through his head, and with supreme satisfaction that mocking voice inside his head acknowledged a truth he'd been doing his best to ignore for quite some time: she wasn't just _one_ of his. Kagome was special.

And that son of a bitch was dead.

* * *

In a way—in a very stretched, distant, distorted way—it was just as much her fault as it was his. Had she done what she'd told Kaede she was going to do, she would have been in her room, sleeping, instead of aimlessly wandering the halls, deep in thought. And had she been paying any attention at all, she would have noticed the tall, skinny man who'd started trailing her not long after she left the dining room, and taken steps to avoid him. On the other hand (she would decide later), it was probably a good thing that she hadn't gone to nap because she suspected he would have simply found her in her room; and there was no guarantee that she would have been able to avoid him had she noticed him. As it was, his fingers wrapped a hard grip on her bicep right next to the laundry room.

Her eyes widened at her change in direction, but her reaction time was sluggish, and before she got her bearings, she found herself shoved inside the tiny, deserted room, right across from where the old washing machine sat open and ready for the next load of linens. Hidaka twisted her arms up behind her back, then pressed his body into hers, using his meager weight to keep her arms squished uncomfortably between her back and the wall. His hands grabbed at her body roughly, rubbing along her hips, up to fondle her breasts and down to grip at her thigh through her jeans.

She gasped and struggled against him, trying to free her arms. The pressure he kept on her body was bruising, and the awkward cross of her limbs was making them go numb. "Hidaka-san, let me go!"

He smiled that slime-coated smile. "It's time to repay me for your inexcusable rudeness the other night, Kagome." He squeezed her breast, firmly, and tugged her shirt free from the waistband of her jeans. He leaned down and put a wet, saliva-slick kiss next to her mouth; her stomach heaved in protest. "It took a while for people stop watching you after the excitement yesterday, but I've finally got you alone. Now you can convince me not to ruin this quaint little inn everyone works so hard to keep going."

_So much for him being sick_, she thought, revolted by his touch. His entire body was pressed so tightly against hers that she had no problems feeling the hard bulge of arousal digging into her stomach, and fury rose to join her disgust. "I said _no_! What do you think your wife say when I tell her about this!"

His hand clamped onto her breast again, this time through her exposed bra. His fingers dug into her skin, and she couldn't stop her pained response. He smirk-glared down at her, his body smashing hers so hard that she was starting to have a hard time breathing. "Tell my wife, and the Sachi won't be the only thing that suffers." His voice took on a mocking cast. "Besides, she'd never believe you. She knows how much I love her."

She glared back at him, even more infuriated for his wife than she was for herself. "We'll see, won't we?" The disrespectful bastard; no way in hell would she just stand there and let him have his way. She jerked her knee up, going for what she knew worked. He blocked it, but the action brought his chin down, and Kagome threw her head up as hard as she could. The resulting crack was hard enough to make her vision blur.

He gave a pained curse and jerked away from her, just enough for her to get her arms free. Even though they felt bruised and bloodless, she shoved at him and managed to slide from between his body and the wall. She tried calling out for help, but couldn't manage much volume in her desperate lunge for the half-closed door. Hidaka, with his much longer stride, was right behind her. As she passed through the door, Kagome gripped the edge and threw it closed behind her. The door slid like oil, slamming against his shoulder. He howled in pain, but kept coming, stumbling into hallway behind her. Kagome put all her abused muscles had into running, but he caught up to her quickly. His bony fingers gripped at her shoulder, and she whirled on him, filling her lungs, fully intending to scream. His hand mashed down on her mouth, muffling the sound and slamming her back into the wall. Her head cracked hard, she saw stars, but she glared at him through the haze, her heart pumping madly in her ears as she sought another avenue of escape. Her fingernails flailed at him, but he grabbed one of her wrists and twisted until tears sprang to her eyes.

His eyes glinted at her from behind his glasses. "You'll regret that."

A growl echoed off the walls of the corridor; Kagome sucked in a breath at the feral sound.

At the same time, a hand clamped down onto Hidaka's shoulder, and he was suddenly off her, thrown back against the opposite wall hard enough that a loud thwack echoed from the impact. Hidaka found himself staring, breathless, disoriented and in pain, down at one very pissed-off looking hanyou. InuYasha's claws dug into the delicate skin of the taller man's neck, his infuriated golden eyes narrowed on Hidaka's face, sharp teeth flashing through the dangerous growl still vibrating in his throat. "Son of a _bitch_!"

Kagome blinked, dazed by the speed at which things that had changed, and her limbs started to tremble. "In-InuYasha." Feeling weak and light-headed, she sank down onto her knees right in the middle of the corridor—it was either that, or topple over.

At the sound of her voice, InuYasha turned slightly so that he could take in the sight of her, slumped and pale on the floor; she had one hand over her mouth, the other hugged close to her body, the red marks on her arms on full display. His expression tightened, and his fingers twitched, digging into Hidaka's neck. Blood trickled from between his fingers, seeping down into Hidaka's shirt.

The Sachi's most prominent guest let out a strangled screech. "Stop! You're hurting me!"

InuYasha rounded on him with a fist that made a satisfying thud when it hit Hidaka's skinny face, snapping his head back at a painful angle. "You weak _fuck!_ I haven't even _started_ hurting you yet!" He led Hidaka's stunned form crumple like a paper doll, and was crouching next to Kagome by the time Hidaka hit the floor boards.

His fingers skimmed down her arm. She flinched at the touch, unable to suppress the reaction. His eyes went wide, his ears gave a perturbed flick, and he started to pull away. Panic blazed and her stomach muscles clenched almost painfully. Her hands shot out before she thought better of it, grabbing his hand between her own and holding on tight and trying to will her heart back into a normal rhythm. He stiffened beneath her touch and his eyes jerked back to hers, fury still dominant in their depths but gentle concern a close second. His heat burned against her palm, comforting as a flame in the darkness.

Kagome drew in a deep breath and tightened her fingers around his tense ones. "Thank you," she breathed, _feeling_ pale. "I was...a little worried."

He blinked at her, going breathless and still for an unreadable moment. Then, to her utter relief, she felt him relax. His fingers curled around hers, and she felt the faint tip of his claw against her knuckle, a hot, comforting, secure grip, one she wouldn't mind having access to more often. He shifted his body until he practically surrounded her, knees hitting the floor on either side of hers, leaning in close. He was a solid force between her and Hidaka, offering his strength in his typical non-verbal way. She responded in kind, resting her head against his shoulder, and they stayed like that for several moments while she fought to compose herself. Gradually, she let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and felt the awful tension melt from her muscles, felt herself go limp against him as the relief flooded in.

"Hey." The fingers of his free hand brushed against her shoulder, almost hesitantly, as if he were afraid of doing her further harm. "Are you okay? Did he—" a pause, and faint curl of his lip, "—do anything?"

She shook her head. "No," she said—in a voice, she was pleased to hear, that sounded almost normal. "I'm fine. Just a few bruises from running into things." She drew another deep breath, willed the strength back into her spine, and sat back away from InuYasha until she was looking at the way Hidaka's skinny frame had just started to right itself in the corner, his face already starting to purple and swell, the same hands that had grabbed at her so offensively now clutching at the vivid red smear across his neck. She made sure to pin him with as much defiance as she could muster. "He just scared me a little. I'm fine." There was a bit of residual deep-muscle trembling, but she figured that would wear off after a few minutes. After all, all things considered, the bastard hadn't gotten very far.

And InuYasha had helped her. After yesterday, she hadn't been at all sure he would. One of the distinct coils of anxiety that had been dwelling in her gut since then unwound, and she felt nearly sick with the relief.

He might not trust her, but he didn't _hate_ her. And that gave her hope for the others, too.

It took her a moment to realize that his response to her assertion had been another deep growl. His free hand abandoned her shoulder to grab at her wrist; he made no move to shake her grip on his hand. "You're not fine. You're shaking." His eyes narrowed again, and he turned his glare over his shoulder at the cowering human male. "What. Did. He. Do?"

Kagome started to shake her head, but Hidaka made an indignant noise through his nose and started struggling to his feet. "What did _I _do? This an outrage! I was merely asking your housekeeper directions through this ridicul—Gah!"

And just like that, InuYasha's hand and the reassuring heat of his body was gone, and Hidaka's face crunched into the wooden floorboards, courtesy of that same hand. It happened so quickly Kagome could only note the way the claws on InuYasha's fingers dug harshly into their guest's skull, the way the fresh spray of blood from Hidaka's nose stained the wood. She winced at the grinding sound and wondered how much scrubbing it would take to clean up the blood, surprising herself with how unsympathetic she was to Hidaka's squeal of agony.

InuYasha's lips had curled back in a full-blown snarl. "Whatever else she said to you, she didn't ask you to scare the shit out of her, or to put those fucking marks on her skin, asshole! So just shut your mouth before I beat you to death right now!"

Kagome's eyes widened. He was so _angry_, his non-human canines bared in harsh threat, the golden color of his eyes dark, narrow, and flickering—she swore—with flashes of brilliant, glaring red; it was almost frightening. In fact, it should have been frightening. That the sight of an infuriated InuYasha wasn't scaring her witless was vaguely disconcerting.

As Hidaka whimpered out a shrill, squeaky imitation of acquiescence, Kagome scrambled to her feet. She approached them quietly, her steps muffled but audible. InuYasha didn't glance up at her as she placed a calming hand against his shoulder blade. "InuYasha."

He ignored her, putting painful pressure against Hidaka's ribs with his knee. Kagome could swear she heard bone scrape against bone. "This is him," he said, voice rough. "The bastard who's been bothering you."

Kagome's eyes flared in brief surprise. "Kaede told you."

"Yeah," he gritted out. His glare slid to her for a moment, and she winced again, "_Kaede_ told me."

"Please." As much as some part of her enjoyed watching the smarmy man squirm and bleed, Kagome suddenly wanted nothing more than for the whole thing to be over. The adrenaline crash she felt at the help, from such an unexpected source, had left her bone-weary of the whole thing. "Just make him leave."

Another growl. "Damn fucking right he's leaving!"

Then InuYasha was on his feet, Hidaka's above-average length half-standing, half-dragging from his fist, the human's eyes wide and white-rimmed as he tried to keep the sharp claws from cutting his skin like they cut his shirt. InuYasha's other hand closed down around her wrist, and the three of them made a loud, embarrassingly obvious procession through the halls of the Sachi, heading for the entrance and picking up a following of stunned guests along the way.

* * *

Hidaka's body made a loud crunching sound when it hit the snow-laden gravel beyond the porch.

Miroku came hurrying out behind them, beyond alarmed by the spectacle that had just paraded past his front desk. "InuYasha! What's going on?"

InuYasha didn't even spare him a glance. "This son-of-a-bitch thinks he can just help himself to women who don't belong to him."

Miroku looked shocked. "_What_?"

The growl in InuYasha's voice only got deeper as he watched Hidaka struggle to his feet, and the light in his eyes grew murderous. "The stupid bastard's been putting his fucking filthy hands on Kagome since he got here. And I just found him all over her in the hall, getting rough with her."

"Oh?" Miroku's voice cooled significantly, and a deep, quiet anger darkened his gaze as he looked over Kagome's appearance as she stood, still held close behind InuYasha. He took in her mussed clothes and hair, the red marks on her arms, then asked quietly, gently, "Is this true, Kagome?"

She hesitated, glancing up at InuYasha's stiff back, then nodded.

Miroku's expression went dark and nearly as dangerous as InuYasha's. "Then, I suppose we have no other recourse. I believe you already understand this, Hidaka-san, but your status as a guest at the Sachi is officially revoked." He sent an appraising glance over the man in the dirt, his voice dispassionate. "You should start walking. Sonkyou is a fair distance from here, and the next rail car won't be coming for another two hours. Please don't ever return."

"W-what? But I'm a guest at your establishment! I've already paid a more than generous fee!"

Miroku looked less that impressed. "And of course, you will be refunded fully for everything you haven't used. Minus a small fee for your abuse of our housekeeper, of course. Now I suggest you leave quickly, or our owner may decide that a simple beating isn't enough in the way of punishment for your overstepping your boundaries."

Hidaka stared at the gathering of people on the porch. "Don't be stupid. I was only doing what she _wanted_ me to do. Prancing all over the place, throwing out those enticing looks, practically inviting me to come after her. _Your_ housekeeper was the cause of all this, and _my_ humiliation is the result? Don't think I'll let this insult just pass!"

"How _dare_ you?" Red-hot outrage burned over her embarrassment, and she stepped around InuYasha until she could see Hidaka's dripping-and-bruised features. She trembled at the effort it took to hold back from adding fresh marks to the ones swelling his face. "I told you to _stop_! I said repeatedly that your attentions were unwelcome, avoided you at every turn, and still you kept coming—cornering me in my own kitchen and forcing yourself on me whenever I turned around! I _tried_ to—"

"_He did WHAT_?"

"Ah! InuYasha stop!" She latched onto his forearm as he jerked her back behind him, desperate to stop him before he could step down off the porch. "It's finished! He didn't do anything irreversible. _Please stop_!" This time, she was sure she saw red flickering into the gold of his eyes, and something about them made his rage non-human and fiercely violent; the way he looked, she was sincerely afraid InuYasha would kill Hidaka if he got his hands on him again. Kagome didn't care about Hidaka; she _did_ care about the trouble InuYasha could get himself into if he hurt Hidaka. It was already looking like Hidaka had gotten the worst of the physical damage; if his face kept swelling like that, he was going to need a doctor, and that would cause even more problems for them.

He listened. Barely. His bare feet stopped right at the edge of the porch. The muscle and skin underneath her fingers felt like hot granite. She couldn't hear his fierce growl, but she could feel it vibrating through every fiber of skin and bone.

InuYasha's eyes had narrowed into near-slits; their red-gold ferocity pinned Hidaka down with a glare that was dead-serious. "Get out of here before I really do kill you."

Hidaka paled. "Don't take me for a fool! That's murder! You'd be—"

"_Murder._" InuYasha's sharp canines seemed particularly dangerous when he bared them at Hidaka. Or maybe it was the near-calm disdain with which he considered the human male. "You don't even know what killing someone means. You think I'm afraid of _jail_?"

Miroku stepped up behind Kagome, the movement subtle enough to draw Hidaka's attention. The small, pleasant smile on his face raised goosebumps all over Kagome's skin. "I advise you to remember what a dangerous place the Daisetsuzan can be, Hidaka-san, before you convict anyone of anything more than an unfortunate accident."

Kagome stared between InuYasha and Miroku, and felt some of the blood drain from her cheeks.

_ They could do it_.

Neither man killed easily, she was certain. But they could do exactly as they threatened if they deemed the situation appropriate. And this might very well be one such situation. It was a startling realization, one she tucked away for later study before she swallowed, fear and regret chasing off the fury that had just pushed her forward. Everything had gotten so far beyond what she'd wanted and into the very thing she'd been trying to avoid.

"This—this is outrageous!" Hidaka staggered to his feet, babying his nose and trying to get the blood to stop flowing. "I'll sue you! I'll have you arrested for assault! I'll—"

"You'll do _what_, Shirei?" Mrs. Hidaka's voice bit into the afternoon, even colder than the air. Everyone turned to find her standing in the open doorway, stiff and formal as she stared at her husband. She surprised Kagome. She looked nothing like the warm, cheerful woman who had been fluttering around the Sachi for the past week. "I suggest you do as the manager says, Shirei, and start walking."

Hidaka paled. "Noriko, you can't believe—"

"That you were only doing what she wanted you to do?" Her acerbic tone silenced her husband more effectively than InuYasha's beating had. "I warned you what would happen if I ever again caught wind of anything like this. This is the last time. I will pack our things and follow you shortly." Mrs. Hidaka turned and bowed deeply to Kagome, regret in her voice. "I should have listened to my father. He warned me that Shirei was a bad man at heart after the last time he was caught with another woman. I thought if I gave him one more chance we could..." She shook her head. "I beg your forgiveness for bringing him here and subjecting you to this despicable treatment."

InuYasha didn't even look at her, never took his eyes from the trembling man standing in front of the Sachi. "Lady, your choice of mates is none of my business, but if I were you, I'd get rid of this fucking loser."

Kagome sucked in a breath, but Mrs. Hidaka didn't even flinch. Back rigid, the older woman inclined her head in a dignified acknowledgment. "Indeed."

"But, Noriko-"

InuYasha growled, then stepped down and out of Kagome's grip. Mr. Hidaka squeaked and stumbled back a few more steps, but InuYasha stopped with his feet in the snow. "You've got three seconds to get moving, you bastard—" he lifted a hand and curled his fingers so his knuckles cracked threateningly, "—before I escort you into town."

Hidaka's eyes flew wide and he darted a panicked look at Miroku. "But I'm wounded! All this blood might attract something—"

Miroku shrugged. "I suggest you walk quickly."

"Three."

Hidaka looked at his wife. "Noriko!"

She looked away.

"Two." InuYasha took another step.

Hidaka threw up a hand and started away at a backwards half-run. "I'm going, I'm going, you crazy monster!" He stumbled once. "But you can be sure I'll be filing a police report the second I get into town! I'll have you in jail by this evening! We'll see how afraid you really are!" Then he turned and limp-jogged away from the Sachi. InuYasha was still growling.

He was almost out of sight down the gravel road before Mrs. Hidaka spoke again. She turned to Miroku. "I apologize once again for his treatment of your staff, and all the trouble this may have caused everyone. Please keep the money we paid you as compensation, and if you'll allow me a phone call, I'll make sure no such report is filed on my future former husband's behalf."

Miroku looked delighted. "Is that so? Well, of course we will do our best to accommodate _you_, despite your husband's indiscretion."

Kagome blinked at Mrs. Hidaka, having a hard time reconciling the bright, happy, flighty woman who'd arrived earlier in the week with the stiff-postured, dignified version standing proudly on the porch behind her. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she offered, feeling inadequate but wanting to offer some kind of support.

The smaller woman turned her head and her face softened in a sad smile. "I am as well. This trip was our last hope, but... Perhaps there is something to Sachi's legend after all." She tipped her head towards InuYasha. "You are lucky, Housekeeper-san, to be with someone who cares about you so much."

InuYasha's feet thumped against the wood as he stepped up onto the porch behind Kagome before she had a chance to process Mrs. Hidaka's meaning. She gave a start when she realized he was still growling, but his hand snagged her elbow before she could turn. "All right. It's over. Everyone can go back to doing whatever the hell they were doing before."

Which, of course, brought to Kagome's attention once again the fact that almost all of the guests had gathered on the porch to watch their embarrassing little drama unfold.

InuYasha's hand tightened around Kagome's arm, and he blew past Mrs. Hidaka, back into the depths of the Sachi. Kagome was forced to follow after him, stumbling only slightly at their speed and burning a furious, shamed red at the number of gaping faces. It seemed the whole of Sachi had turned out for the ruckus, just in time to see the Sachi's owner unceremoniously dump a prominent guest into the front yard in a very public humiliation. She pressed her lips together. Everything had turned out exactly as she hadn't wanted; she couldn't have imagined much worse.

InuYasha paid them no attention at all. He just tugged her along, not rough but forceful, all the way into the kitchen. He slammed the doors shut behind him, tugged her over to the table, yanked the first chair he grabbed around, and sat her down on it.

She sucked in a breath, trying to gather the courage to look up at him. "InuYasha—"

He dropped to a crouch in front of her, wrapped his hand around her jaw, and turned her head. "Don't." That dangerous red still flickered in his eyes as he studied her for a moment before he leaned in and tucked his nose beneath the curve of her jaw. "Just...shut...up."

Kagome went very still as her heart slammed against her chest in a jerky, untamed rhythm. She could feel his snuffling, his heavy breathing, the hot rage coming off his body in waves. She felt his lips, burning against her skin.

"You're taking a bath, now. Burn these fucking clothes—and I mean _burn_ them." A growl, a snarl. A rumble deep in his chest that she felt vibrate across the shallow space separating them.

Kagome shook her head, still trying to catch her breath. She wasn't afraid, just...speechless at his reaction. His hand gripped her face, aggressive, fiercely controlled. She felt his body everywhere against her, and his free hand rested with an almost delicate touch against her waist. She swallowed, her mind flashed back to Hidaka's repulsive aggressiveness, and for a brief second, her heart constricted with fright. But no, not like this. Hidaka hadn't been the one to overwhelm her senses with his heat and comfort her with his presence. InuYasha was the one Kagome trusted; she wanted him, and didn't even bother to deny it. Her body and mind welcomed his touch with the same violent passion with which it had rejected Hidaka's.

His teeth slammed together with a loud snap, and he moved down, trailing his nose along the dip in her neck, skimming against her collarbone. A heated shiver rippled across her skin, following his touch, spreading out, over, everywhere. "Fuck, the bastard's stink is all over you! Where else did he touch you?" His mouth burned against her bare skin, but it felt so good that she was afraid to say anything, was sure he would stop if she did.

But then he stopped anyway, pulling back just enough to glare at her. The red had vanished from his eyes, leaving only the yellow-gold hue, enhanced by his fury. Kagome breathed a quiet sigh of relief, sure only that the red hadn't been a good sign.

"You stupid bit—next time _tell_ someone, damn it!"

_Um_...

Blink. "What?"

He was scowling, snarling, furious. "Why the _hell_ didn't you say something to me? I would have kicked that sorry fuck's ass out the door before he had a chance to get his hands on you!"

Blink, blink. "But, I tried to—"

His fingers flexed on her waist, digging enough so she felt the tips of his claws through the material of her shirt. "Don't let stupid shit get in the way of telling me something important!"

She stared back at him, caught halfway between anger and arousal. Her mouth dropped open. "You...you! _Who_ was being stupid? How about next time, you _listen_ when I try to tell you something?" Her skin felt hot and tight across her body, and deep in her muscles she trembled—from the adrenaline, from the rush of molten heat, from the racing of her heart in her chest. Damn him! He was so..._frustrating_. She tried to jerk to her feet, but his hands firmed on her waist and kept her in her seat. She glared at him, breathing hard.

He glared back for a long moment...before he averted his eyes. His teeth ground around his words and a growl underlined them. "So what? Next time, be _clear_! Just tell me. I can't fix it if I don't get what the fuck you're saying."

For a moment, Kagome thought her blood would actually boil. A rough sound of rage ripped from her throat, and without conscious thought, she grabbed at his ear and yanked. His head came around, his golden eyes wide and shocked. "I _was_ clear! _You're_ the idiot who decided I was saying something I wasn't! Do something about your hearing!"

Air hissed between his teeth and he jerked his ear from between her fingers. The loss of the warm, silky-fine texture made her fingertips tingle. She curled her fingers into a fist and pressed it against her thigh, trying to ignore the zing of sensual _want_ that tightened her stomach. He didn't notice her hesitation. His eyes had narrowed and his face was red, the veins in his neck prominent in his rage. "_I'm_ the idiot? _You're_ the one who decided you needed to handle a pervert all by yourself. Stop trying to handle things on your own, damn it!"

"I was trying to keep things from getting out of control! What else was I supposed to do?"

"Tell me! And keep telling me clearly even if I'm being the kind of moron who won't listen! That bastard could have really _hurt_ you! You don't have the fucking right anymore to take your own damn safety for granted! Everyone worries about you enough as it is!"

_Oh_.

Most of the outrage blew right out of her, leaving only the heat and the adrenaline—and his touch, both phantom and real, all over her body. Eyes wide, she stared again, really looked...and saw it. That intense, irrational anger? That was real; but beneath it, deep under all that fury was a shade of fear. Regret. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in the hands he let grip so harshly at her skin. And it was for her.

An ache gathered in her throat, and she let her chin drop to her chest so that her hair hid the dampness that welled in her eyes despite her best efforts to stem it. Her mouth trembled as she fought against the urge to sob.

InuYasha gave a start at her sudden withdrawal. "O-oi! Kagome, what—" He stopped, swallowed audibly. "Are you...are you _crying_?"

_I thought I'd done something unforgivable_.

His hands moved to her shoulders, shook her—gently. "O-oi! Why the hell are you _crying_? Stop that!"

The panic, the pure horror in his voice almost made her laugh. She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes with her fingers, trying to keep the tears from spilling and embarrassing them both further. "You jerk," she whispered.

"You—_what_?"

_I thought you were going to keep ignoring me_.

A peculiar phenomenon: she could feel all of him. His irregular, stuttering breath, his baffled expression, the fight-or-flight tension of his body as he crouched mere inches away. She could even smell him, though he would probably give a derisive snort if she said so: earthy male, hot skin, sharpened by the bracing scent of pine.

_I thought you'd stopped caring_.

"Kagome?" His hands loosened on her shoulders and hovered just above them, as if he were afraid that touching her would un-dam the floodgates she'd managed to staunch.

She looked up, and wondered if he was close enough to tell how fast her heart was beating. And honestly, how was it fair that she sitting here all hot and bothered, and he was mere inches away from her, completely unaffected?

He swallowed again, but looked immensely relieved that her tears seemed to be under control.

She reached out and cupped the side of his face. Shock flickered in his eyes, but he didn't pull back. Then she leaned forward and didn't stop until she felt the heat of his palm pressing into her breast.

* * *

This time it was InuYasha who froze.

_ Oh no. Oh shit. Oh god of willingly celibate males everywhere._

He had his hand on her breast. The realization hit him like a cheap body blow.

Round. Soft. Pliant. All those wonderful things that made the female body so addicting to the male psyche. All those wonderful things he'd been pretending he didn't miss for the past five years.

He looked up into wide, violent gray eyes. Not anger, no—passion. Naked desire. Longing. She _wanted_ him to touch her.

The shock of it wiped away his anger and stirred up a tsunami of molten urges. His body jerked as he instinctively tried to move—whether to pull his hand away or simply get a better grip he didn't know. It didn't matter anyway, because her hand clamped down onto his before he could do anything else. Her smaller fingers slid between his larger ones and she pressed him deeper into the softness of her chest.

His breath clashed in his throat as he tried to exhale and inhale at the same time, while his mind struggled to respond and his body laughed derisively at the fight. His gut twisted, then went warm and tight and _hard_.

_Oh fuck, oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

Something in his brain blared alarm.

The hand on the side of his face cradled his cheek softly, pulling, urging. His treacherous body didn't even attempt to resist; and then her mouth was on his: hot, wet, coaxing,_ enthusiastic_.

_Oh, fuck._ He was stunned.

_She_ was kissing _him_. Again.

Her tongue slid over his lip, into his mouth. She licked, then sucked, then pressed a little harder. Tilted her head and sighed into him.

She was kissing him, and _she was damn good at it_.

_Yes_, he thought as electric pleasure sizzled from her mouth out along his limbs. _Fuck_.

And then he stopped thinking.

His hand moved again, and this time it was a caress, calloused fingers catching on bothersome material as they stroked the softer skin it covered. The insistent protrusion of a nipple beneath his thumb, the low moan of a sweet feminine throat. His free hand was on her waist, kneading the dip, feeling out the separation of slim torso from gentle flare of hip. Her hand slid from his cheek to his neck, and her fingernails dug painfully into his skin, marking him, staking a claim.

His growl was nearly feral in its satisfaction. But it only lasted long enough for him to realize that there wasn't _nearly_ enough contact between them. His grip on her waist tightened, and he tugged, sinking to his knees and taking her with him. She came off the chair easily, her body flowing into his, melting over and around him, her thighs draping his hips, her breasts molding against his chest and her tongue clashing more fiercely with his. Nothing shy or timid in this kiss of hers; she attacked him with exuberance, her arms sliding around him to press closer, her fingers taking up sharp hold on his shoulders.

His body burned, an inferno of heat and anticipation. Blood thick and churning, pounding through to his very fingertips, the prickle and agony of pleasure centering on his groin, which was nestled against her just as snug as it had been the last time they'd done this. She moaned again, rubbed herself against him, clamped her teeth down on his lip and tugged before he could stop her. Another growl ripped through him, and he responded by gripping her hair and tugging her head back in blatant domination—and her excited gasp and subsequent sensual wriggling made him feel like exploding. Her scent...her scent was spicy and beckoning, mesmerizingly thick, a bewitchment to his most sensitive sense and both salve and spur to his youkai instincts. The only thing wrong with it was that...foreign scent.

Her boldness pleased him; her aggression pleased him; _that scent_ did not. That infuriating, weak, offensively male scent that wasn't his and had to be eradicated as quickly as possible. He needed to get them out of their irritating clothes, get inside her so deep that _his_ scent would be the only thing left on her. What the hell had she been doing letting some other male get so—

His eyes snapped open and his head jerked back as a pang of remorse cut through the indulgent fog silencing his judgment. The kiss broke so suddenly that it left them both disoriented, panting and shuddering.

_Shit_.

What in every level of hell was he _doing_? She'd just been attacked by some pervert—and here he was, not ten minutes later, a scant three layers of clothing away from fucking her right into the godsdamned kitchen floor. Hard, like the sex-starved youkai he was.

Kagome blinked at him with eyes clouded and urgent. "What...why...stop?" Her chest heaved, her voice barely a seductive husk, her soft breasts cuddled against him in delicious temptation. Lips an abused and blood-flushed pink, anticipation written into every line of her yielding body.

Lust thrummed a pounding, insistent beat in his head. She must have realized his hesitation because a frown made a tiny mar in the skin between her brows. She shifted, drew her thighs up around his waist and pressed the soft hollow of her jeans against the bulging ache of his.

He shuddered, groaned, fought with himself.

..._Just three scant layers_...

"Don't," she said against his mouth. "Not again. _Please_." She licked him, her tongue a warm, wet lave across his mouth, and he couldn't keep himself from grabbing at it with his teeth, angling down to cover her lips again.

Well, hell. She obviously didn't want him to stop. Thank the fucking gods, because he wasn't sure he could. Some part of him tried to speak up, to remind him that there was another reason to stop, and stop now, but she was touching him and he couldn't think—didn't want to. Her fingers found their way to the hem of his shirt, then beneath it, and her cold fingertips tracing over the planes of his stomach, over stone-rigid muscles and smooth hot skin. Shivers rippled through him as she flattened her hands, stroked up until her fingers brushed over his nipples, then down over his abdomen and hips, tracing every dip and hollow. Her nails dug into his flank, and hot damn he liked that.

He groaned again, into her mouth, his hands somehow inside her clothing, dragging callused fingertips over the soft dip of her spine, working her shirt and sweater up, up, up.

She whimpered, twisted against him, broke the kiss for air then came back for more.

Frustration threaded the red-hot haze blanketing his brain. His blood throbbed, beat in his head; lust sank nearly painful claws deep into his gut. He really needed to get her out of her clothes, but they'd gotten themselves twined too closely together. He tried to push her away, intending to take her blouse and outerwear in one strip, but she protested with another moan, slid her arms up his back and clung close.

Growling, he tore his mouth away from hers, gripping her shoulders and pushing her back. "Wait! Just let me—"

_In her kitchen. He couldn't believe it. _

He sucked in a breath and almost choked.

_Oh, shit_.

Kagome stared up at him, hair wild, eyes clouded with pleasure.

He'd seen this picture before, long ago, with the only difference a pair of dark brown eyes more aware and reserved than the misty gray ones in front of him now. That time, they'd both been in chairs around her kitchen table, and she'd been—

—_letting him get clumsy with treating the jagged, bloody scratch on her arm. The attack hadn't been his fault, but that scratch was, and he felt obligated to help her with it. _

_ She'd watched him through those inscrutable, gentle brown eyes, quiet after her first few protests that the scratch was nothing had gotten her snarled at. The heavy silence was making him nervous; he kept fumbling the bandage. The feel of her skin beneath his fingertips was cool, soft, smooth. Her scent, that odd mixture of so many things that should have been unpleasant but weren't, filled his nostrils._

_ "We work well together."_

_ His eyes darted up, away from the cloth bandage that he was trying with so little success to secure around her arm. He grunted. "You shouldn't have tried to take it out by yourself."_

_ Her gaze didn't waver. "It's my responsibility, and I already told you, I'm not affiliated with your group."_

_ That calmness of hers was agitating him, churning up his blood. His fingers tightened around her forearm; the bandage got bigger as he wound it another time. "Don't tell me you didn't need help. If I hadn't come along when I did, that thing would have had you for dinner."_

_ A small smile curved her mouth. "You don't need to worry about me. I wasn't in any danger."_

_ He snorted. "Who was worried about _you_? I live in this area, too, you know. Someone finds the shredded pieces of a famous miko all over the place tomorrow, and they'll start looking at the nearest youkai."_

_ "Famous? That's hardly the right word." Her smile flickered. "I'm just an anomaly to them. They don't understand me. They don't even understand what I do."_

_ He circled her bicep again; it was starting to resemble an overstuffed sausage, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Her strange scent was so weirdly tantalizing, clouding his other senses and making him feel fuzzy and stupid. "They don't _know_ what you do."_

_ "And you do?" she murmured, dropping her eerily calm gaze to his busywork._

_ "I know what your file says. I know what I found you with in that alley. Shit like that doesn't make it into police or news reports. People would panic. They think they live in a peaceful world; they think youkai are all like them, or that the ones that aren't are never a problem."_

_ "My file? You honestly think a file will tell you anything useful about me?" For the first time, her mask of calm cracked a bit, showing anger. "I see even youkai subscribe to bureaucratic nonsense these days. Most people only see in me, and in the world, what they want, and therefore will never see what I am. A file is nothing more than a record of what other people see." Just as quickly, the crack mended and she paused, considered him. "But you're not the same, are you? You know what it's like to be separated and alone because of your differences, don't you, hanyou son of the great Taisho-sama? That's why you keep coming to me, because you recognize something in me."_

_ "Differences," he sneered, then shrugged. "People are what they are. I am what I am. I don't give a fuck about differences."_

_ "Is that so?" He didn't answer, and her hand covered his, stopping his worthless ministrations. "InuYasha, I'm fine. I don't need it."_

_ He bristled, but couldn't bring himself to pull his hand out from under hers. He stared down at her slim fingers, the vaguely calloused skin crossing over his knuckles. Excitement whispered through his body, the same way it had since he'd first seen the famous miko who'd moved into the area sitting at that tiny cafe across from his shop. The same way it had when she'd noticed him staring and walked over to speak with him. She had a quality about her that was both repulsive and attractive at the same time, and as strange as it was for someone like him to want someone like her, it was real. He wanted her—had for a while—and tonight, right now, with all that post-battle adrenaline thrumming through him, that want was overwhelming. _

_ She knew. She was always so irritatingly sure of things. "You know what I think?" She leaned forward over their arms until the weight of her breasts pressed against his skin. _

_ His eyes narrowed, but the excitement inside of him was no longer a mere whisper. _

_ "I think that in the same way you understand what I mean when I say they can never know me, I can understand what it is that draws you to me. And what draws me to you." Her face was so close, turned up in offering, her lips a scant few inches away. He was leaning in, too, without even deciding, getting closer and bending his head until he could feel the brush of her breath against his mouth. "I also think that makes us both uniquely qualified to understand certain other things about each other, don't you?"_

_ And that was the last thing she said, because then he had her lips under his, her tongue a teasing, skillful whip in his mouth. He didn't know when she moved from her chair onto his lap, or when he lost his shirt and she hers, nor when the bandage unraveled and fell to the floor. What he did know was that her skin, which was usually so cool, warmed to his touch, and that her body, which he thought of as so tough, softened and accepted him, maybe even welcomed him. He knew the addicting, almost numbing pleasure when she moved over and around him, the sparkling bits of power-pain that enhanced it all, and the stunned bliss that blasted the distance from her eyes when she came in his arms. He knew the satisfied exhaustion that lasted only long enough for her to take his hand and lead him into her bedroom._

_ And later, he noticed her blood smeared on his hand._

_ That night was their first time_.

The pain hit him, a dull, searing knife in his chest. But...it wasn't enough. He shook his head, tried to make his hands let go of Kagome's shoulders and failed miserably. For the first time, a memory hadn't made a scrap of difference. _Her_ face was there in his mind, but it wasn't having the impact he'd hoped. The temptation of Kagome, warm and wrapped around him, was more real and intoxicating and..._important_?...than the mistakes he'd made in his past.

The mistakes he couldn't afford to repeat.

_Fuck_.

He swallowed. Closed his eyes. Forced the word past his throat. "_Kikyou_."

Kagome blinked at him. "What?"

But the name he hadn't heard in five years had done the trick. The sour taste of betrayal and grief twisted round the lust in his stomach. His hands slipped from her shoulders and he scrambled backwards, out of her surprised grip. Kagome tumbled off his lap to sprawl on her butt; her shoulder hit the chair and sent it scraping across the floor. She looked up at him with disbelieving eyes, hair as tumbled and mussed as her body.

He stared back at her, hands flexing as he fought against the urge to go back to her, to get her off the floor and into the nearest bedroom—or closet, or chair, or whatever the hell would get them undisturbed and him inside her fastest. The realization hit him with a terrible, sinking sensation, as if he were drowning. _Her_ name had been a temporary fix at best. It would fade away, and eventually he would cave—and this time, there would be no recovering. Not from Kagome.

It was a disaster waiting to happen. He couldn't see a solution.

But as she sat there staring up at him, he saw her disbelief slowly turn to hurt. He cursed himself as the source of that hurt, hated himself for it, but didn't realize just how much damage he'd done until she spoke.

A soft, timid voice. "Kikyou? Who is...Kikyou?"

* * *

He left her there, on the floor, breathless and panting and aching.

He'd scowled, reminded her to take her bath, then walked away. He'd studiously avoided touching her again. She wasn't blind; his body hadn't been any less raging with want than hers, but he'd walked away anyway. The frustration he'd left her with was almost enough to make her cry—the fact that he'd left her with someone else's name on his lips did, very briefly.

Kagome took her bath, helped a cosseting Shippou burn her clothes (apparently InuYasha had been serious about that), and set about trying to get back to her routine. It was surprisingly easy, even nice, because some of the tension that had sprouted with the youkai attack had been dispelled with the human one. Miroku, Shippou, Kaede—even InuYasha, from a safe, physical distance—they all seemed to forget they were being wary of her, and the warm friendship returned as if it had never left. Mostly.

True to Mrs. Hidaka's word, no police report was ever filed, no inquiry ever made into Mr. Hidaka's injuries. The day after the Hidaka's dramatic exit from Sachi, Miroku made a few discreet calls to some acquaintances in Sonkyou, and found out that the couple had spent the night in separate rooms in Sonkyou's most expensive hotel, then promptly checked out and left the next day—accompanied by a small army of suspicious-looking men in suits. The small army had, apparently, been taking orders from an iron-faced Mrs. Hidaka.

So the Sachi recovered and moved on. InuYasha continued to avoid her, though his disappearances weren't total now. He made appearances at meals, ate quietly, left quickly. Never looked at her. It still hurt, but at least she had a better idea of why now.

She hadn't missed it, of course. That one moment of clarity after she'd asked her question. The cornered, desperate look in his eyes. The sorrow before that. Whoever this Kikyou was, she'd been very important to him at one point, and he'd been hurt for it. And that realization was almost enough to send her into depression.

Almost. Her curiosity saved her. She felt as if she'd been given a glimpse of a puzzle piece that was very important to understanding why InuYasha acted the way he did, and after a bath and a few days of emotional recovery, she was determined to find out more.

* * *

"Who is Kikyou?"

The kitchen stopped. The remaining occupants literally froze in their tracks in the middle of breakfast.

Miroku, his chopsticks hanging halfway to his mouth, cocked his head, an odd, shuttered look darkening his violet eyes. "That's a name I haven't heard for some time. Where did you hear it, Kagome?"

Kaede sat in her seat, dark eyes fixed on Kagome, who sat across the table from her. Shippou had already eaten and vacated the room, scurrying off to check on the guests for Kagome. InuYasha had made an extremely early appearance that morning, eaten, and secluded himself with some project in the attic. He hadn't told her what, and she hadn't asked—mostly because every time she tried to ask him anything, he cut her off and left, and that wasn't a habit she wanted him to start establishing at meals. The bottom line was, he absolutely refused to talk about this Kikyou person.

Kagome hesitated. She wasn't concerned about their reaction, but she did feel as if she should tread carefully. Whoever this Kikyou was, InuYasha hadn't spoken of her lightly, and Miroku and Kaede, even if they were aware of who she was, weren't likely to want to delve into whatever incident she'd been involved in without good reason. "She...InuYasha mentioned her."

Miroku's frown was skeptical. "_InuYasha_ did?"

Kagome lifted her chin and held his gaze. "Yes, he did."

He didn't respond right away, finishing his bite searching her gaze while he chewed, calculating and weighing. Kagome held her breath. Finally, Miroku sighed. "If you want to know about that name, you should ask InuYasha to elaborate."

"But he won't tell me anything else."

Miroku paused again, his hands around his bowl this time. He arched one brow at her and asked, not unkindly, "If he _won't_ tell you, then why do you think I _should_?"

She bit her lip, but accepted the point. Miroku was InuYasha's closest friend. They'd obviously been through a lot together. The question hadn't been fair.

Kagome sighed, cast a less-than-hopeful glance at Kaede, then swore she saw the older woman's lips twitch. "It is good that InuYasha spoke of her. It would be an even better thing if the things he spoke of had substance."

_In other words, get him to tell me himself_? Kagome thought. _Gee, thanks_.

The name Kikyou seemed to have an odd effect on Miroku and Kaede as well, however. Miroku's brooding gaze didn't lighten with the dropping of the subject, and he made short, quiet work of his breakfast, then suddenly stood and said something about going into town if anyone needed him before exiting the room. Kaede's reaction was much more subtle: she decided to work in her cabin for the day, and promised to be back in time to help prepare dinner. All of which left Kagome wondering, with some despair, just how important this Kikyou had been and why none of them would speak of her.

And why this invisible woman seemed to be the one insurmountable obstacle keeping InuYasha away from her.

* * *

That afternoon, feeling restless and unsatisfied, Kagome decided to make a western-style cake—a little after-dinner treat for the guests so that _they_, at least, would be pleased, even if it felt like no one else was. Since he'd finished his lessons for the day, Shippou glued himself to her side, cheerfully helping her measure and blend, all the while eyeing the mixture with greed. It was a restful afternoon, probably because Shippou was the only one who didn't seem to have a problem with either her new-found powers or her new-found curiosity, and once the majority of the batter was properly poured and in the oven, she surrendered the remains to the kitsune for a thorough licking.

Kagome sighed and rested a forlorn chin in her palm. She glanced down at the kitsune happily scraping the bowl on the countertop beside her. "Shippou?" She asked, not feeling optimistic.

He grunted as he swirled his little tongue around the wooden spoon. "Hn?"

"_You_ don't know who this Kikyou is, do you?"

Shippou stopped mid-lick and turned his face up, eyes round. "_Kikyou_? Where'd you hear about _her_?"

Kagome blinked, then lifted her head. "InuYasha...said something about her. She sounded important. But no one else will tell me anything about her. Do you know who she is?"

Shippou cocked his head, and let the spoon drop back in the bowl. "You mean who she _was_?"

Kagome frowned, then turned so that she was facing him, an uneasy ripple sliding down her spine. "Was?"

"Yeah." Shippou hesitated, then shrugged. "I guess if InuYasha talked about her, it's okay if I do it, too. She was _his_ girlfriend after all."

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. "His girlfriend?"

Shippou nodded, then picked up the bowl and peered intensely within, as if by will alone he could make more batter appear. "Yeah. I never met her, but she was a powerful miko like you. Kaede doesn't talk about her a lot, but she did say once that Kikyou and InuYasha were in love. I guess he was gonna marry her."

Pain pierced through her, deep in her chest. "Oh," she said, breathless. He'd loved someone that much? Little wonder, then, that he didn't want to betray that memory by being with her. Kagome swallowed, curled one hand into a fist and tucked it against her chest. "What...happened to her?"

"What happened?" Shippou stopped staring at the spoon, and shot her a startled look. "She's dead. InuYasha killed her."

* * *

A/N: Hello! It's been a while, yes? My apologies, since I've been either extremely busy or extremely depressed for the past few months. A big apology to the inquiries people have been sending me about my stories. Now that I'm back to my normal self, I'll be able to give them the personal touch I try to give all my correspondence. Yes, btw, I _am_ planning on finishing both of my major WIPs, so they haven't been abandoned or anything.

And seriously, thank you for still caring. These stories have become more involved and complicated than I ever envisioned them being when I started them. Thanks for sticking with me through the dry spells.

What was that? Next update? Um...no idea, but I'm working on it, as always. Anyway, so that's the latest for drama at the Sachi. Let me know if you loved it, or hated it, or "meh'd" it. (I think things are finally starting to get interesting, but that's just me personally.) 'Till next time,

~Quill


	17. Quiet Move

_%_

_Warning!Warning_! All caution and care taken beyond here. There be _lemons_ in this forest.

Well, just one, technically. Graphic lemonade, piping hot, people (that means sex, for all you uninitiated out there). Read with care.

%%%

* * *

**Chapter 16: Quiet Move**

* * *

_She's dead. InuYasha killed her_.

The words echoed a bit, as if their impact could only truly be felt with multiple reverberations. Kagome stared at Shippou, unmoving, struggling to process his words. Her voice was a faded ghost of its normal self. "What?"

Shippou clapped an icing-spotted hand over his mouth, and the spoon clattered in the empty bowl. "Oops. I wasn't supposed to say that to anyone." He fixed pleading eyes on Kagome. "You won't tell Miroku or Kaede, will you?" When she didn't answer, he fidgeted. "_Please_?"

_She'd dead. InuYasha killed her_.

It couldn't be what it sounded like. He'd just said InuYasha had _loved_ Kikyou. The thought hurt, and Kagome swallowed, pushed it away. "Shippou, what do you mean he 'killed her'? Was there some kind of accident?"

The tense lines bunching Shippou's forehead cleared, and his eyes grew wide and solemn. "No, I mean he killed her." His fingers curled into a miniature set of imitation claws, and he swiped them through the air. "Like that."

_She's dead. InuYasha killed her_.

Kagome felt the slow drain of blood from her face. Her lips felt numb. "But...why would he kill her if he loved her?"

He shrugged an uneasy response. "Dunno. She must have done _something_ bad. Whatever it was, it happened before I met InuYasha and Miroku—it happened right before we came to the Sachi, and no one would tell me much of anything back then, either. I remember hearing about it on the news, but since Dad didn't pay that much attention to the news, I never did, either." He darted a few cautious looks around the deserted kitchen. "But you can't tell anyone I said that, okay? I'm not supposed to talk about stuff that happened before Sachi. Ever."

"Why?"

"Because." He turned back to her, and the dark, haunted look in his eyes drew her up short. "It's dangerous."

Kagome sucked in a breath, then reached out and brushed her fingers through his burnt-orange bangs. "You don't have to worry. We're in the Sachi, surrounded by friends."

Shippou's hands fisted into tight little balls, and he looked away from her, his bottom lip trembling. "Being surrounded by friends and family doesn't mean you're safe," he whispered.

A chill ghosted over her skin, and she hesitated, unsure of how to respond to that. He was serious. She thought back to that first night of drinking hot chocolate in the kitchen, to the way his face had crumpled when he'd mentioned his family, then leaned down and folded his fists in her hands. "No one in Sachi would ever let anything bad happen to you."

His head jerked up, and the green of his eyes so fierce it surprised her. "Of _course_ you wouldn't, just like I wouldn't let anything happen to you! But if you talk about it, we could be found, and someone might be hurt, and it would all be my fault."

Kagome felt sick, her stomach churning. Shippou was obviously convinced he was in danger from some unknown threat. But that didn't make any sense because why would anyone come after a harmless kitsune child? "These people...are they chasing _you_?"

He looked frightened. "They're chasing all of us." He sprang to his feet, and the bowl clanged again when he knocked it with his knee. The urgency in his face was the most naked and convincing emotion she'd ever seen from him. "You have to promise not to talk about it, okay, Kagome?"

Kagome wanted to pursue it, wanted to ask more, but... She knew how terrifying it was to feel like you were being chased. Sometimes she woke up with the fear fresh and sour on her tongue, the breath of her pursuer a heavy weight along her spine. And always, the not knowing, the not remembering why, made it ten times worse.

She bit her lip. "I promise, Shippou. I won't say anything. It'll be our secret."

Relief sagged through his little body, and Shippou slumped back into a sitting position on the counter again. That her word alone could produce such a reaction from him when he'd been so scared made her heart melt. She smiled faintly. "Come on. You have to help me with the dishes now."

Shippou nodded and turned back to his discarded bowl, scouring mournfully for any remaining hints of batter before picking it up and using it as a ferry for the other dirty dishes scattered about. Kagome busied herself with filling the sink with water.

_A priestess, a monk, a youkai, and a hanyou go to live in a secluded inn_, she mused. _Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke_.

Nothing funny about the implications, though. She'd realized—would've had to be an oblivious fool not to—that Sachi's residents were avoiding unpleasant things from their pasts, but she'd always figured it didn't matter. After all, the circumstances of _her_ arrival at the Sachi had been hewn in mystery and danger, and yet they'd accepted her easily and openly within their walls. Sachi was a haven to all of them, and the precursors were just unimportant details.

But this was different. These details mattered; these details were causing all of them pain, even now, even inside Sachi. InuYasha had killed someone he _loved_. She remembered Shippou's clawing motion, a mimic of what she'd seen InuYasha do to the youkai that had attacked them, and shivered.

_InuYasha had killed the woman he loved_.

He'd loved her. He'd killed her. The facts refused to reconcile in her brain. What could possibly have happened to cause such a damaging tragedy? The InuYasha she'd come to know wouldn't do something like that to someone he cared about. He protected the people he cared about, he didn't hurt them. There had to be something more, some reasonable explanation. Shippou didn't have the whole story; he'd flat out said as much.

Miroku and Kaede were refusing to talk about it, and InuYasha was avoiding her as if she were diseased. If she wanted the whole story—if she wanted the truth, to find a way to end this painful impasse the two of them seemed to be at—she would have to get it from somewhere else.

* * *

_Return immediately_.

The words burned black against the white background of her screen, plain, simple Time New Roman that touched off a spiral of dread that threatened to break her.

Planted firmly in the cushioned desk chair that went along with the nice desk gracing the sitting room of her hotel suite, Sango stared at the simple command in blank dismay while a familiar sick, decaying feeling began to wash over her. That was it. She'd run out of time. She'd pushed his patience to its limit, and now she'd finally been summoned. Stomach churning, she glanced around and grimaced. Right about a month—given what she'd been sent to do, not a bad stretch of time.

He would want a verbal report, though. That meant bluffing her way through his presence if she wanted to continue the pretense.

_Damn_.

She palmed her tired eyes, rubbing at them in a soothing circular pattern. She set her shoulders and her jaw and tried to remain calm. She had a maximum of twenty-four hours left; she still had things to do.

_Nothing_. She'd found nothing—not true, but that's what her reports had said for the past month. There was a lot of risk in what she was planning to do; if she were smart, she'd take everything she'd found back with her and present it as a last-minute discovery to make up for all the time she'd wasted. But since she wasn't smart, she would only take some of it and use it as evidence for what she would tell him, not for what she actually thought. She would do this not only because she wasn't smart, but because she was loyal—and that loyalty had never been to _him._

She would weave him as tragic and believable a narrative as she could muster, and hope it would be enough to convince him. It was possible. What she had should be enough. After all, everyone knew those two morons were loose cannons just waiting to blow; that they had finally done so was very believable. Probably.

At its best, her plan would force him to either give up or send someone else, which would cost time, if nothing else. And if she did a good enough job of camouflaging what she _had_ found, she could take her sweet time getting back as well, without giving him any concrete action to hold against her. The thought of being able to do that, of being able to stick it to that bastard without having to face retaliation, pleased her almost enough to make up for the fact that she'd have to subject herself to his presence to do it.

She rested her fingertips against her forehead with a sigh. God, she was in trouble. It had been a long month. As beautiful and peaceful as Sonkyou was, the reason she was here trumped it all. The tension had been high from the first day, and it had built itself steadily into a headache, a stomachache, an all-over body-ache as the month had progressed. She didn't usually have such a hard time coping with a job, but this one struck so close to a protected part of her. And now she'd decided to engage in one of her little rebellions and had to go back to pull it off besides.

What she needed to do now—_now—_was to blow off some of this stress.

Her eyes narrowed, and she glared down at the keys of her laptop, her heart going a million miles too fast. She'd thought she'd had the perfect, down-and-dirty solution to her stress symptoms: a smooth-talker who seemed to be both experienced enough to back up the talk _and_ physically appealing; but he hadn't shown for their "date" the other night, even though she'd waited well into the dark of evening. He'd left her sitting there feeling stupid and all worked up all by herself, and the past couple days had been all the worse for it.

Here she was, getting ready to gamble with something precious, and strung so tight she was having trouble thinking clearly. She needed to find a way to get herself under control, or someone would pay a very high price.

Cursing her own psychological weaknesses, she shot to her feet, slammed the lid of her computer down, and started pacing from one corner of the sitting room to the other. Curled up and napping in a corner of the sofa, Kirara opened her eyes, lifted her head, and gave a concerned "mew."

Without stopping, Sango shook her head, ripping the ponytail out of her hair and raking her fingertips through the long strands, trying to relieve some of the deep ache. "No, I'm all right. It's just...we have to go back tomorrow. I just have to...go to the gym or something, that's all. You know how I get."

Kirara's responding "mew" was somehow disapproving and sympathetic all at once, and Sango came to an abrupt stop. She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, then dropped into a crouch so she could scratch behind her companion's ears, right where she knew Kirara liked it. Kirara lifted her head into the scratch, purring, before she turned her head to look at the door to their suite.

As if in response to the youkai's expectant glance, a knock sounded.

Sango blinked, then stood. A glance through the peephole showed her white...a plastic bag?

After a moment of thoughtful hesitation, she opened the door. Her curiosity quickly morphed into surprise, then narrow-eyed anger when she saw who was standing in the hallway.

Miroku lowered the bag from peephole-level and held it out to her, meekly. "I come bearing profuse apologies and an offering of penance."

Oh, God. It wasn't fair. Her body reacted to him like it had from the beginning: her skin tightened and tingled all over her body; inside she went heavy and warm and aching; the knot in her stomach went from sickening to fluttering excitement. It was relief, just from him showing up and standing there, and it really wasn't fair.

She pursed her lips and glanced down at white plastic weighed down by all manner of things, including a brown paper bag that smelled like heaven's bakery, but she didn't take it.

Didn't slam the door shut, either.

"I also bring a lame excuse, if that makes any difference?" Even as he spoke, his dark violet eyes moved over her in that way they had, assessing, probing, as if he were stripping her in both the figurative _and_ literal sense. They lingered on the loose, messy drape of her hair around her body, traced the curves of her hips through her jeans, and on her chest before coming back to her eyes. He swallowed. His lips ticked up into a crooked, self-deprecating half-smile, and instant, smoldering want mixed with hope in his gaze. Then, before she could even begin to formulate an answer to his first question, he spoke again—quietly, as if it were a wayward thought that slipped out without permission. "Ah...you should wear your hair down more often."

The gentle, appreciative husk in his voice stole all the breath from her body. Her fingers gripped the door handle, her toes curled against the bare carpet. Sexual need was a sharp knife in her gut, and it was still better than the agony of contemplating her life.

A frown flickered in those deep eyes as he watched her war with herself, teetering between one extreme and another. After leaving her waiting in that cafe, the only thing he deserved was a good slap and a door in the face—but damn the man and his timing, because what she wanted at that moment was not what he deserved.

The frown on his face deepened to real concern. "Sango? What's wrong? Did my non-appearance at our cafe cause that much damage?"

_Our cafe_.

It was such an unexpected thing for a man like him to say that she had to swallow a stunned laugh; her chest seized around it, and her anger slipped away from her, dissipating into nothing. That was the problem with smooth-talking charmers: they always talked too much, said things they didn't mean. Lips inexplicably twitchy, she snagged the bag from his fingers with one hand, and reached out to grasp the open edge of his jacket with the other. One tug was all it took to have him inside and the door shut.

With his back to the door and a comically astonished "are you kidding me?" look on his face, Miroku watched her drop the bag on the carpet by her bare feet and tuck her fingers into the sweater under his jacket. "May I assume I'm forgiven?"

A slow smile; she couldn't help it. She pulled his sweater above his jeans, found a shirt underneath. "You may assume that I'll let you start making them."

"Them?" He was so quick to take the hint, already bending down, his mouth a few breaths from her curved lips. His hands skimmed the slender dip of her waist.

Her smile widened and she stood on tip-toe to meet him, nipped at his bottom lip. "Your profuse apologies and lame excus—."

His mouth caught hers, and it didn't even matter that he'd cut her off, because it had the same effect on her as stepping into a warm onsen after a hard workout. Her body went boneless, tight muscles limp and limp muscles deliciously tight, and all the worries that had been screaming at her non-stop for what felt like forever floated away. She leaned into him, and his hands on her rib cage guided her until she was half-standing, half-leaning between his legs. His mouth was hot against hers, and, just like she remembered, very, very good at the whole rubbing-stroking-nipping thing. Pure pleasure, throbbing and pooling low.

She opened her mouth to him, sucked his tongue in and _tasted_. He murmured his appreciation, slipped his tongue across hers in a teasing, velvet stroke, and then his hands made a frame of her face—warm, rough skin that held her in place for a deep, forceful shift in the kiss. She hummed at him, happy to let him plunder.

Since she was already pressed intimately against him, she slipped her fingers underneath his final layer of shirts and slid them along smooth skin. The feel of real muscle, tensed and vaguely trembling, in his abdomen delighted her, and she stroked a little higher, edging the layered shirts up until she found solid pectoral muscle. It was the first real hint she'd gotten at the true shape of his body underneath all the clothes that always protected him from the cold, and she was surprised by not only the lack of flab, but the definition of the muscle. Apparently, her inn manager actually _used_ his body.

Miroku's mouth skimmed down her throat, giving her a chance to breath. She gasped at the air. Against the thin skin of her clavicle bone, she felt the caress of hot breath. "It is a man's greatest sin to disappoint a woman, and I shall bear the shame with me to the grave."

Sango blinked, still breathing hard. "What?"

She felt him grin, lazily, then felt his teeth nip, his tongue sooth. "My first apology."

A breathy laugh nearly choked her, and she curled her hands into fists against his chest, scraping his skin with her nails. He moaned; her breath caught again. Exhilaration whipped through her like lightning, and her stomach clenched around the feeling. She hooked her fingers and dragged them down his front, then hid a smile against his neck at his second groan. The faint scent of cologne, mild and pleasant and masculine, greeted her. She dropped a wet nip beneath his ear, mouthed the soft lobe. "That was a decent start."

"Decent?" His fingers plucked at her shirt hem; his lips moved to her jaw. "I am a despicable worm for standing you up, and I will spend the rest of our acquaintance actively finding ways to make it up to you."

She laughed again, stunned at the delight bubbling up in her chest. She pulled her hands away from his skin and pushed at his jacket collar. "Better. Getting this thing off would go a long way in reaching your goal."

His hands left her shirt hem immediately. His jacket hit the carpet, his hands settled back on her hips, and his eyes met hers, heavy-lidded, dark, teasing. "Just the jacket?"

Not really in the mood for a slow strip-tease, she hooked her fingers under her hem and pulled the dual-layered garment off in one smooth motion. It flopped to the floor beside his jacket. Her hair swished against her naked back. He sucked in a sharp breath and his fingers dug into her hips through the thick corduroy of her pants, but she didn't wait to see his reaction to her functional sports bra. It wasn't really sexy, but it wouldn't be staying on long anyway, so she tried not to think about it. She bunched the layers of his shirts in her palm and pushed at them, breathing hard. "These too."

Miroku seemed to have caught her urgency, because they all came off at once, shucked almost as fast as it took her to murmur the order. Then he had her waist again, and his hands were hot on her bare skin; his head dipped even lower, and she moaned at the kisses he dropped down her chest, into the tightly leashed swells of her breasts. His fingers moved, stopping briefly to tangle in her thick tumble of hair before fumbling at the complicated catch of her bra at the back. She would have helped him but she was too busy running her hands over the bunched muscles in his arms, the subtle strength straining at his shoulders; when the catch came free quickly, she figured he hadn't needed her help anyway. The material came loose, then her breasts were free, and he had his mouth around a pebbled nipple faster than she could gasp. Her fingers dug into his hair to hold him close while his tongue went all hot and skilled and adoring on her breasts, her back arching gracefully to give him better access. The hair-tie came loose, and his hair fell like cool silk around her hands.

"There were problems at Sachi," he gasped into her skin, his hands sliding beneath her waistband to lovingly cup her butt. He cradled her against his erection with a groan. "A wild animal attack one day, then a guest molesting our staff the next. I couldn't get away."

Melting at the sensations, she rubbed her hips against his, but pushed at his shoulders until he pulled his lips away, reluctantly, from the nipple he'd been batting at with his tongue. He looked down at her, askance, but she shook her head. He wasn't that much taller than her, but he had to be uncomfortable bent over like that, even braced against the door. She put her fingers on the button of his jeans. "Was that your lame excuse?"

Dark purple eyes riveted to her fingers as they slipped the button through its catch, that finely sculpted bare chest heaving with each breath. "Both of them. Sad, aren't they? Their only saving grace is truth."

Sango smiled again. Plucked at tab of his zipper. "You saved a molested coworker?"

_Snick. Snick. Snick_.

From deep in his throat, a rough sound. His fingers followed the example of hers, thumbing the button free and working the pale brown fabric open. "No, the owner did. I only helped."

That breathy laughter escaped her again. "That makes you an almost-hero." She'd finished with the zipper and had him, hot, throbbing, heavy in her hand. Her thumb stroked a caress, feathery over the delicate skin. "Should I reward you anyway?"

A choked groan, and he was kissing her again, harsh and greedy as he shoved the pants from her hips. So excited she was barely breathing, she let them slide down her legs, then stepped out of them, kicking at them until they were away. That left her in only cotton panties. White, with pink ribbons lacing through the thin elastic band, her only private concession to femininity. _Wet_ panties. She shivered as the cool air drifted over her.

Miroku surprised her by sinking to his knees, tracking slow kisses down her body as he went: her throat, the dip in her collar bone, the swell of a breast. One nipple. The other. A lick. A delicate nibble. Then a searing, wet trail from her diaphragm, lips and tongue paying close attention to her belly button. His hands, too, stroked downward from her shoulder blades, down spreading out down her back, settling on her backside. By the time he'd made it to her panty-line, Sango's head had fallen back, her nails cutting into his shoulders and tiny little sounds of pleasure the only breath moving in and out of her lungs. Her knees trembled, but his hands on her butt were firm and steady, supporting her beneath the cloak of her hair.

His teeth scraped down the sleek slope of her lower belly and grasped at the pink-ribbon-and-elastic. Tugged. A cry slipped from her as her inner muscles clenched hard, a knee-jerk pleasure spasm. Miroku whispered something fierce against her skin, then she felt his mouth move, the brief lash of his tongue along the damp material between her thighs. Orgasm danced tremblingly close, grazed her, then slipped away. Sango shrieked, her limbs collapsing, her arms clasping tight around Miroku's head as he caught her and eased her down to the carpet in front of him.

"Enough apologies and excuses," she gasped, mouth against his shoulder. "I'm going to use you for sex now." God, she _ached_ to have him inside her. She shook with it.

The hoarse sound he made could have been a curse. "Would you, please?" He pushed his hands beneath the only bit of material left on her body, naked hand to naked ass.

They gave another moment to a desperate, mind-melting kiss before Sango broke away again. "Protection?" she murmured, nipping at his lips.

"Back pocket," he said, littering kisses along her neck, hands stroking down her legs and taking her panties with them.

They had an awkward moment of struggle where he worked at getting her completely naked and she worked at getting into his back pocket that only resolved itself when she relented long enough to free a leg. They ended with her straddling his lap, inadvertently groping at his ass while his hands returned to deliberately groping at hers. His erection strained between them, searing in its nakedness, jerking with each tantalizing brush of wetness and heat.

She found the square of foil and gave a spare second to being amused that he was so prepared, but didn't for a moment think that it was because of her. Men like him were always prepared, just in case.

He must have been as close the end of his patience as she was to hers, because he showed a distinct lack of finesse first in ripping open the package, then fumbling with her to get it on. After that, there was no hesitation between them. By mutual, breathless consent (and his hands still on her ass), she draped over him, and he filled her in one fast, perfect thrust.

They stilled for a moment, feeling, adjusting, learning, her arms clutching at his back, his chest crushing her breasts, hearts beating together in head-long, tandem flight. He stretched her deliciously tight, and Sango moaned softly, lost to the sensation. Every inch of her clung to him, relishing the hot throb deep inside her, the most intimately _there_ with her that anyone would ever be.

Then his hands on her backside urged her to move, and she did. Mouth clashing with his, thighs sleek and graceful and straining, she rode him, rising and falling in a primal rhythm that didn't leave much time for leisure or indulgence. Beneath her, he did the same, grunting with effort, every muscle hard and determined. The jeans he still wore rasped against her inner thighs, and her tight nipples kept brushing against the heated skin of his chest.

They were too hot to last long, and she came first, orgasm hitting her in rolling waves that rocked her hard, shook her so deep that the shock waves took him with her. She felt him shudder, thought she might have heard him make some kind of noise, but it was drowned out by her own keening as she curled herself around his body and held on tight. Reality collapsed on her, receded into a white-noise background far beyond the pleasure wracking through her.

She didn't stir until he did, at some indeterminate point later, rousing her with his shifting and adjusting, stroking with his hands (which were _still_ on her butt). She lifted her head from his shoulder and gave him a drowsy glare.

He grinned back, lazy, satisfied, and unperturbed. "Beautiful Sango. As amazing as what we just did was, and as much as I _sincerely_ look forward to doing it again—" her eyebrows shot up at the assumption, but he ignored her look, "—I'd also really like to be able to feel my legs again sometime this lifetime."

Oh. Right. He was still on his knees. She blushed, embarrassed at having completely forgotten his comfort—and vaguely impressed when she realized through how much of it he'd been on his knees—then forced her limbs to move just long enough for him to stretch out his legs beneath them. She curled right back up again on his lap. He didn't seem to mind, just leaned back against the door and rested his chin on her head while his hand combed through the tangled, wild mess of her hair. After a few seconds, he jolted, then strained his neck looking around the room. "Sango?"

Too content to really be curious about his behavior, she only turned her face into his chest. "Hm?"

He glanced down at her, frowning and uneasy. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that _was_ Kirara I saw on that couch when you pulled me inside, wasn't it?"

Sango's eyes popped open and she jerked upright. Miroku yelped at her sudden movement, but she was too busy glancing around the room to be concerned about which part of him she'd wounded. When she didn't see her youkai companion, she relaxed back into Miroku's steadying arms, flopping a loose hand in the direction of the room she wasn't using. "Don't worry about her," she sighed. "She always pulls a vanishing act when people forget she's in the room and start... Um, I'm sure she's gone. Kirara's not the peeping type."

"I see." He picked up her hand and laced their fingers together. "So do you make a habit of attacking and ravishing men who show up at your door? Because if you do, I'm certain I can show up at _least_ three times a week."

Just that easily, the squirming, fluttery feeling in her belly started up again. Her lips twitched. "It's not really a habit. Just a..." _Liar_. _It's both habit, and need_. "You caught me on a bad day," she finished.

In her ear, Miroku whistled, low and intimate, his mouth brushing the sensitive skin. "A _bad_ day? A beautiful, sexy woman grabs me and rips off my clothes, and she's having a bad day? I can only imagine what a good day looks like." He dropped a soft kiss at the base of her neck, another on her shoulder. His hand cupped at her breast, and he shifted again until his knees bent on either side of her. "Or maybe, if I'm lucky, I won't have to imagine?" A murmur so soft, it was mostly self-directed.

Sango closed her eyes and rolled her head, giving him access to a wider expanse of skin. His thumb flicked at her nipple; her bare toes curled into the carpet. She raked her fingernail along the material covering his leg and fought to keep her tone casual. "You realize you're going to have to take these off, don't you? I've got marks all over my legs." She tried, really tried, to make it sound like she was complaining.

She felt him smile, felt his teeth scrape over her shoulder. "Marks? Let me see." He lowered his hands, a rough caress over her skin, between her legs. Parted them until he could see the faint patch of reddish skin running along each inner thigh. His fingers brushed over them, and Sango bit her lip to hide her sharp breath. Then he soothed. Stroked. Downward.

Sango's spine arched, and she slid her hands over his. Guided, taught...

...moaned.

"Oh, yes. We should tend these immediately." Light, teasing flicks, his fingers dancing with hers. Pleasure thrumming along her most sensitive nerve endings. "Isn't there some old saying about licking wounds to make them heal faster?"

More laughter, bubbling up from some deep, forgotten place inside her. "If you're a dog, maybe," she murmured, turning her head up and tugging his down.

Miroku met her in a quick, open-mouthed kiss that was all tongue and enthusiasm, then pulled back with a soft laugh. "A dog? I am definitely going to remember that."

Sango meant to ask him why that was funny, but she got distracted.

* * *

_Bliss_.

It was the only way to describe an entire afternoon spent in sensual indulgence, Sango was sure. She lay face-down on the mattress in her room, sprawled within a tangle of sheets and other bedding while Miroku smoothed his hands up and down her back. He kept dropping kisses on some neglected spot of skin, but made sure to stop periodically and pay homage to her backside, a feature which it hadn't taken her long to realize he adored. Not too long ago, she'd had a sheet covering her entire body, but Miroku had been working it gradually downward until it barely covered the back of her thighs.

In had taken them an hour—an _hour—_to make it the bedroom, especially after Miroku insisted on engaging in a "healing session" for the marks he'd left on her legs. And when they finally had dragged each other off the carpet and over onto the mattress, he had insisted on bringing the bag of goodies with him because a: they really were "the best snacks in Sonkyou," (and after tasting the pastries, she couldn't disagree); and b: "it never hurts to be hopeful," he'd told her cheerfully as he tossed her the box of condoms he'd bought along with the food. She couldn't deny they'd come in handy. More than a few times, and in more than a few ways.

And it had all been so much _fun_. Miroku was a hedonist of the first order, and he took unapologetic pleasure and enjoyment from every touch, whisper, taste, caress. Sango had never experienced sex this way. The lovers she took were lovers of necessity, a stop-gap way of dealing with the guilt and negative emotions that were her daily companions in the life—and even then, not until after she'd ignored them until the pressure threatened to break her. She traveled around so much the lovers she took were strangers; the sex she had was quick, sometimes good, sometimes bad, but never personal. She'd never lain in bed and taken time to revel in a wealth of naked sensations, had never felt every muscle and bone in her body go to liquid, had never laughed at so many silly, ridiculous, inane things. She'd never felt _connected_ to anyone before.

She'd never had a day like this. She'd never had a lover like him.

Sango knew, somewhere deep down, that this was going to come back at her in a terribly painful way. That this afternoon might very well be the worst mistake she'd made in her life. But for the moment, she was content, so relaxed she could have been a cloud drifting in the sky. She shifted her head just a bit and sighed. "Amazing. Nothing hurts."

Miroku paused, his hand on her nape and halfway through combing the long, long strands of her hair over her shoulder. He kept doing that, as if there were something fascinating about her hair. Distantly, she sensed his surprise. "Hurts? You were in pain?"

Her eyes flew open as she realized what she'd given away. Nonplussed that she'd let slip one of her most basic secrets, she didn't answer right away.

"Sango? When did you hurt? _I_ didn't—"

"No!" The denial burst from her mouth before she had the chance to even consider whether she should let him think it was his fault or not. She turned, met the concern in his violet eyes. "It's nothing. Just a peculiar quirk of mine." She hesitated, made a split-second decision. It wouldn't hurt to tell someone other than Kirara. Just this once. "When I'm under a lot of stress, sometimes it manifests in physical symptoms that cause me pain. Stomach aches, headaches. Muscles spasms. It doesn't happen often. Just sometimes. But I have a high-stress job, so..."

His eyebrows rose a fraction as he stared down at her. "When you're under stress." Another moment or two of consideration. "And you were in pain before?"

He was watching her as if he could see all her secrets. It made her cautious.

"Yes." Her eyes widened as she caught the implication, and she hastened to add, "I know I'm on vacation, but with my type of job, you never really...get to leave it." She pressed her lips together and averted her gaze before he noticed the affect the words had on her. Now was _not_ the time.

He moved, bracing his arms until he was directly over her. "And how, exactly, do you deal with this stress?"

She caught the hint of sensual curiosity in his voice and fought a smile. She ran her hands up his arms. "A hot, sweaty encounter is the only cure I've ever found."

"Is that so?" His dropped to his elbows so that his body pressed hers into the mattress. "So you just pick random men to have sex with whenever you're feeling stressed? Should I feel lucky?"

She leaned up and pressed her mouth to his. "I never said it had to be sex. Just hot and sweaty."

Intrigue lit up his face. She could almost see the possibilities running through his brain. "So you sleep with them or fight them?" He leaned back, and the way his eyes slipped down her body told her he was more attracted than repulsed by the idea of her being able to handle physical violence. "Martial arts?"

For some reason, that made her feel lighter. "Several kinds. I didn't get this ass you can't keep your hands off of by sitting on it all day."

That prompted a chuckle. "I'd be very interested in seeing you practice."

"No one to spar with."

"What's wrong with me?"

She blinked. "You? But..." She was very, very skilled. "I don't want to hurt you."

Unexpectedly, he smiled at that and bent to kiss her neck. "Your concern for my welfare is touching, but you might be surprised at how I handle myself."

Wasn't _that_ the truth. "I already am," she muttered.

He laughed again, then rearranged them so that they were spooning, his arms wrapped around her from behind, the sheet tucked around them. They were quiet for a while. Sango dozed again, but only on the surface, because through all that luscious skin-to-skin contact, she could feel him thinking. It didn't surprise her when he asked another question. "What is it you do again?"

She opened her eyes. "I'm a troubleshooter, for a very rich company."

"Troubleshoot and travel."

"Yes."

"And that's all you're going to tell me, isn't it?" He sounded wry, not offended, which let her smile.

Instead of responding, Sango picked up his right hand. The circular scar in the middle of it had been intriguing her since she'd met him. She could only think of a few items that would even make such a perfect circle, and none of the scenarios where any of them ended up through-and-through a hand were accidental. As curious as she was, she hadn't asked him about it, and she wasn't about to start now. Quid pro quo could be a dangerous game. So all she did was study, running her fingers over the back, tracing his palm with her nail. She knew she was taking far more enjoyment in the physical closeness, in the right to touch, than she should, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

"What about your family? Don't they miss you while you're doing all your traveling?"

Her hands stilled their examination.

_Pillow talk_, she told herself. _It's just pillow talk. Everyone does it. It's natural to be curious_.

Still, she was glad she wasn't looking at him. "No." She could have left it at that; she _should have_ left it at that, but for some reason... "No family. Not anymore."

"Ah." His hand, damaged and awkward though it was, curled around hers. "I'm sorry."

It was such a simple gesture, but it brought a lump to her throat. "It was a long time ago. I don't think..."

_I don't think about it anymore_.

_I barely remember them_.

_It doesn't hurt anymore_.

Lies. Lies she always told. It was protection; it was self-preservation. But she couldn't bring herself to lie to the man who had wrapped himself around her. Tears stung her eyes, shocking her, and a shudder shook her frame as she tried to hold them in. His arms tightened, tucking her a little further into his body.

"I understand. I only had my father and my teacher, but they're both gone. I was there, for both of them." Miroku sounded quiet, calm, serious—so different from his normal flirtatiousness that she almost didn't recognize it. "It was...a long time ago, too."

There was old sorrow in his words, a hint of tragedy that resonated. It made her heart ache. Sango wanted to turn around, to see the expression that went with that voice, but hesitated just long enough to realize what was happening. Somehow—somehow, without her noticing—he kept slipping deeper and deeper beneath her defenses. Even with that very first shogi game, she'd been sure she was going to send him on his way, only to end up playing with him all night. Then endless flirtations that shouldn't have been endless, repeated meetings she hadn't been able to muster the will to stop. And now, again without her noticing, they'd gone from sharing bodies to sharing...more.

_Quid pro quo_. Such a dangerous game.

It felt natural, but it wasn't good. He wasn't just relieving her stress; he was breaking her down without even trying, exposing her when she needed to be strong. It was probably for the best that she was leaving. And after today, she could never, ever do this again.

After today.

So instead of turning around and meeting his serious gaze and sharing that deep moment of mutual recognition, she squeezed his scarred hand and brought it to her mouth. Then, as an apology and a goodbye, she told him a truth she'd never willingly trusted to anyone else. She told him why. "I lied. There _is_ someone left. A little brother. But he attends a private academy, so I never see him. We don't...talk. I don't even know if he remembers me."

"I see. Someone to live for, right?" It terrified her, how he went straight to the heart of it. "But if he doesn't remember you, then you might as well have no family." A spark of anger, a frisson that skittered along her spine, stiffening her back, but Miroku continued. "So the question is, why not go see him? Why keep yourself in isolation?"

She swallowed. "Isn't fear a good enough reason?"

He let her go, unwrapped himself and pulled at her shoulder, and she found herself on her back once again, staring up into dark, searching eyes. "For some people, maybe."

_But not for you_. He may as well have said it out loud, it hung so clearly between them. He didn't think her a coward, thought she was stronger than fear. He was digging, trying to find the other reason, the one she didn't want him to know anything about.

A pure, clear, beautiful feeling hurt her heart and translated into a bittersweet smile. One afternoon and he saw her more clearly than anyone she'd ever met. She reached up and ran a finger over his lips, then laced her arms around his neck and tugged him down. "Then I guess that depends on how you define fear, doesn't it?"

He hesitated only a fraction of a second before he gave in to her silent demand, mouth hot and slow, licking and tasting with relish. He nudged her mouth wider, took it deeper, and the slow burn melted down into her belly. Sango curled a leg around one of his and urged him to settle against her, felt him go hot and hard against her hip.

God, what an afternoon. Frustration, mind-blowing sex, vulnerability, and spilled secrets left and right. He was obviously her weak spot; who knew what else she'd tell him if he got her like this again? It was a good thing this was the only time. It was.

Miroku broke away, suspicion in his eyes. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

Sango put her hands on his chest, tumbled him onto his back and straddled his abdomen. His hands went to her ass, almost automatically. She gave him her slow, wicked smile and, lithe and nimble as a cat, rubbed herself against him. "More," she said.

He gave her more. Outside, the sun started to set.

* * *

Miroku didn't make it back from town in time for dinner. Nothing wrong with that, except that they'd had a new arrival the day before, an older gentleman everyone called Tanaka-san, who made a habit of stopping in at least once a year, and who was apparently wealthy enough to warrant Miroku making himself specially available for shogi and conversation each night. Kagome had watched them the previous night, and she thought that Miroku had enjoyed the company, so his absence surprised her.

InuYasha wasn't surprised. He was thoroughly pissed, and he grumbled his way through the meal—first, about Miroku's recent habit of taking the truck when InuYasha wasn't around to stop him; then about Miroku's perverted "hobbies", though the wide-eyed curiosity of a kitsune child (and the threatening glares from the two mikos across the table) kept him vague on the details. To Kagome, it felt like the first completely normal meal they'd had since she'd purified those youkai.

After dinner, Kaede suggested that, since Miroku had _still_ not returned from Sonkyou, InuYasha and Shippou take his place playing shogi with their guest that evening. InuYasha absolutely refused, but Shippou jumped at the chance to play against a new opponent; so, of course, all three or them—Shippou, InuYasha, _and_ Kaede, since she had a certain rapport with the elderly man—retired to one of the common rooms to play shogi for the evening. Shippou tried to convince Kagome to sit in with them, but she shook her head, pleading after-dinner cleanup. Shippou had gone to a lot of trouble to manipulate InuYasha into the game, and the evening would probably be nice for all of them. She didn't want to be the cause of it falling apart, and with InuYasha still mostly avoiding her, and her so flat-out confused, she was afraid she would be.

The facts made her sad, then mad, then frustrated, and she took it out on the furniture as she wiped down tables and scrubbed dishes. There weren't that many, because some of their guests had left that afternoon, so she finished quickly and started tea and coffee for anyone who might come wandering in looking for a hot drink. With the temperatures outside so icy, seeking out warmth in the kitchen was a common evening occurrence.

She did all this absently, because her mind refused to quit turning things around, wondering what was really going on. When she remembered the deep sorrow in InuYasha's expression when she'd asked about Kikyou, then put it next to what Shippou had said about him being in love with her and killing her, it made less and less sense. Because she knew, with certainty, that InuYasha didn't harm the ones he cared for. He'd harmed Hidaka, sure—mercilessly—but that had been for her, in protection and indignation. He'd slashed the youkai who attacked them to ribbons, but that had been a desperate attempt to keep her safe.

He might have loved Kikyou, but it had been _Kagome_ he'd been kissing as if he didn't know how to stop, right there on the kitchen floor where anyone could have found them. Remembering made her all warm and squirmy inside, and she sipped her tea, swinging back to anger and frustration while she glared at the floor.

_Unless_...

Unless he'd been thinking of _her_ when he'd been kissing _Kagome_? The squirmy heat in her belly chilled into a cold, sick knot, and she dropped her head to the countertop, horrified at the new possibility. Was that why he was avoiding her? Because it wasn't really Kagome he wanted?

Did that make sense if he'd killed her?

Kagome thunked her forehead against the counter a few more times for good measure. If only one of them would talk to her, help her understand. If only InuYasha weren't so _stubborn_.

"Kagome, Kagome!"

Kagome jerked her head up in time to see Shippou come skidding into the kitchen, take a flying leap, and land on the countertop next to her. His green eyes were round and sparkling with excitement, bringing a smile to Kagome's lips despite her internal mess.

"Tanaka-san wants to see his shogi set!"

Kagome nodded, not sure what he was talking about but willing to go along with his childish delight. "Tanaka-san brought a shogi board with him?"

"No, no! It's not really his anymore. He gave it to Miroku a couple years ago after Miroku beat him every game they played while they were here. Tanaka-san said it was a handcarved board with ivory tiles that he won in a tournament ages ago, really expensive, and he wants to see how Miroku's been taking care of it."

Kagome blinked down at Shippou's expectant features, not sure what he wanted. "I don't know where it is. I haven't seen anything like that."

Shippou nodded. "That's what InuYasha said. He thinks Miroku would keep something like that in his room. He's still playing Tanaka-san, so he wants us to go see if we can find it."

Kagome blinked again. "InuYasha wants _us_ to go into Miroku's room?"

Shippou hesitated. "Well, he didn't mention you, but I'm too small to carry and entire set by myself, so you have to help."

Hands still wrapped around her tea, Kagome stared at him, feeling vaguely as if she were being played. "Has Miroku gotten back from Sonkyou yet?"

He beamed. "Nope. InuYasha said that if he gave up the right to privacy when he took the truck without having a good reason, and that we're not gonna to wait all night for him to deem to make an appearance."

Kagome immediately didn't like the idea. "But..."

"C'mon, _please_?" Shippou was practically bouncing, his fluffy tail wagging. "I really wanna see this thing. Instead of black, the charcters on the tiles are stamped with _gold_. I didn't know Miroku had anything like that."

"But..."

"Besides, I do some of my lessons in Miroku's room all the time since he keeps all his hi-tech computer stuff in there. I bet I could find a fancy set like that real quick." He gave her his biggest, most innocent eyes. "_Please_?"

* * *

Like InuYasha, Miroku had always insisted on keeping his own personal space, so Kagome had never seen his room before. And, given that this was Miroku, she thought she could be forgiven for being a little hesitant.

"Pardon me for entering," Kagome muttered as she stepped into the room. Shippou hadn't waited for her and scampered in ahead, going directly to a set of doors and throwing them open.

Miroku had a generous amount of space in his room, one of the larger ones in the Sachi. The futon sat folded neatly in the middle of the tatami, dead center to the room, bedding halfheartedly folded on top, and various pieces of furniture lined the walls. The doors to the built-in closet that preoccupied Shippou took up half the space of one wall, and a chest of drawers sat next to a large, multi-pane window in the back.

But what caught and held her attention was the low table to her right, laden down with several slim computer towers, one wide, slim black screen, and surrounded by a few other devices she didn't recognize. The screen was dominated by a screen saver that scribbled over itself again and again in a constantly changing pattern. His laptop had its own little space off to the side, closed and quiet.

Kagome's brow furrowed as she stared at the workspace. "Wow. I didn't realize he kept so much in here. It looks expensive."

"It is. That's not all of it, either." Shippou's muffled voice drifted out from the depths of the closet. "There's more in here, too. I think one of the things Miroku studied in school was computers, so he knows a lot about them."

Made sense, Kagome supposed, given that he was the only person she ever saw fiddling with the ancient computer they used out at the front desk. Keeping an ear on the thumping, shuffling, and whacking that marked Shippou's search through the closet, Kagome drifted over the elaborate set-up. Absently, she bent over and nudged the mouse with her fingers and the screen saver cleared instantly, leaving a factory-standard background and sprinkling of shortcut icons across the screen.

At least there were no pictures of large-breasted women. Kagome wouldn't have been pleased to see that anywhere near something that Shippou had regular access to.

_Regular access_...

Kagome's eyes widened. She glanced over her shoulder, but all she heard was the crashing tumble of several small items (and with a wince, she wondered how much damage he was doing), and Shippou's preoccupied mumbling. Just to check, she clicked on the web browser. It popped up immediately, opening onto a search page. The cursor blinked in the box, like a taunt. Her fingers were typing before she really thought about what she was doing.

_Kikyou_.

Pictures of pretty blue flowers and gardening guides were the first returns. She pursed her lips, thought. Revised the search.

_Priestess Kikyou, Tokyo_.

A page of links to a series of human interest articles, all spanning back over a decade or more: _Local Priestess, Unusually Gifted, Follows in Predecessor's Footsteps_;

_Priestess Kikyou Raises Record Amount For Local Charity_;

_Priestess Helps Police, Saves Child_;

_A Priestess called Kikyou: Educator, Philanthropist, and Ambassador_.

Kagome swallowed as her stomach started to churn with unease. Were these all the same Kikyou that InuYasha had known? If they were, she must have been amazing. She chewed on her lip for a moment, then started to click on the first link, wanting to know more about this woman whom InuYasha had loved.

Another crash in the closet, followed by a triumphant exclamation from Shippou, stayed her hand. She bit down hard on her tongue for a moment, then added a word to her search.

_Priestess Kikyou, Tokyo, death_.

This time, the results were littered with news articles, all of them clustered roughly around the same time, approximately five years before. Kagome stopped breathing, her heart speeding in her chest as her eyes skimmed the headlines:

_Bloody Death for Famous Priestess_;

_Priestess Known As Kikyou Mourned by Local Shrine Associations_;

_Unnamed Suspect Held In Death Of Priestess_;

_Beloved Priestess Brutally Slain By Youkai Culprit_.

Well, Shippou had said they'd talked about it on the news. Feeling weak, Kagome sank to her knees, then clicked on the one that claimed a youkai had been the cuplrit.

-_Police are expected today to officially charge the suspect of Saturday night's brutal slaying of one of Tokyo's most beloved and mysterious religious figures, a miko known to most only as Kikyou-sama. Her body was discovered in a high-rise apartment early Sunday morning, after numerous __complaints of loud noises and screaming brought police to investigate. The suspect in custody was arrested after being found with the body amidst the evidence of a violent struggle. Investigators so far have kept details sketchy, but witnesses present at the scene described it as "bloody", "a mess", and "traumatizing". One neighbor, wishing to remain anonymous, described her body as being "mangled beyond recognition_."

_After extensive questioning from police, the suspect, whose name has not been released, will be charged with murder in the first degree sometime Monday. Sources inside the department describe the suspect as male, of youkai origin, and a known acquaintance of Kikyou-sama's. A romantic connection between the two is suspected but not yet confirmed. More details are expected to emerge as records become public. The suspect remains in police custody pending official charges, but lawyers for the suspect have already filed papers asking for an injunction against the release of details to the media. A ruling on the issue is expected later today_.

_Kikyou-sama, an intensely private woman who used the surname Yamashina to rent the apartment, captured popular imagination almost fifteen years ago, after being singled out for what a respected priest called "a rare and unique power" during a holy festival at a local shrine. After an official investigation by the Association of Shinto Shrines confirmed her status, Kikyou-sama shot to immediate folk hero status when she refused to join the Association or take up any official position within a shrine. Instead, she traveled across Japan, quietly raising money for charities and contributing in a variety of ways to the local communities in which she stayed. Kikyou-sama has long been steadfast in her avoidance of media, including all attempts to trace her earliest years, which remain shrouded in mystery. In recent years, rumors of a growing influence in business and political circles have begun to follow mentions of her name, but very little else is known about this very private figure_.

_In a press release early Monday, the Shrine Association expressed sorrow at the loss of such a great spiritual leader. The head priest of the shrine where Kikyou-sama was discovered and local __politicians have already announced plans for a memorial in her honor. Though she will be cremated, funeral plans have not yet been made public_...

With a significant clattering and tumbling, Shippou popped out of the closet, a large shogi board of rich, polished wood and a glinting golden latch dragging beneath his arm and a red velvet bag that clacked with tiles hanging from around his neck. Various bits of clothes trailed behind him. "I found it! Miroku was keeping it in this huge chest..." He trailed off, sniffing at the air. "Kagome?"

Kagome didn't turn around. "That's great, Shippou. You should take it to Tanaka-san before everyone comes looking for it."

"Me? But you're supposed to help me."

Kagome clenched her hands in her lap, trying to contain their trembling. "We both know you don't really need my help, Shippou, not even with a board like that," she said gently. "Please take it out, and I'll stay and clean up the mess you made, okay?"

Shippou was quiet for a moment. "Kagome, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Shippou," she said, sharper than she'd meant. "I just don't think we should leave Miroku's room like this."

"O-okay." Shippou's voice sounded small. Kagome felt guilty, but didn't take it back. With some grunting (because no, he didn't really need her help, but yes, the board was heavy), Shippou left.

Kagome waited until the grunting disappeared down the hall before she lifted her trembling hands to her face and gently traced her features. Suddenly her chest hurt, and she realized she'd been barely breathing for so long she felt dizzy. Her lungs expanded, pulling in a deep, shaky breath, but her eyes never left the screen.

The article itself was bad, with too many terrifying implications and not enough substantive information—and just enough description to leave vivid images swirling around in her head. The article had left the impression of a lover's quarrel, a crime of passion, and to her horror it seemed almost believable. But it was the picture, right there at the bottom of the article—of a woman in red and white shinto garb with a reserved, gentle smile—that she couldn't pull away from.

_Kikyou_.

She was staring at herself.

And the tears stung.

* * *

A/N: Bwahahahaa!

Surprised you with that lemon, didn't I? Surprised myself, too, not that it matters. Got this out a lot quicker than I thought I would. I guess NaNo is good for something after all, huh? Next chapter should be interesting, too.

Er...I think/hope/pray.

Anyway, I hope it was all right. _I_ liked it, but I'm the author, so I don't count. XD

Hope everyone enjoyed it as much as I am enjoying all this chilly weather. We're moving right along now, aren't we? Drop me a note, please, to let me know how you think it's going.

~Quill


	18. Perpetual Check

% 12/2/2011 A/N: Editing of some minor importance done, plus basic prose smoothing. A re-read of this chapter is recommended before the next chapter, but not required - Thank you! ^.^ %

* * *

Chapter 17: Perpetual Check

* * *

It was very, very late by the time Miroku finally returned to the Sachi—so late it was almost early. He was tired as he made his way around the side of the building, hunched against the cold, trudging through the snow with a heavy tread, and in an inexplicably bad mood. He shouldn't have been, not after what could arguably be described as one of the best sexual experiences of his life; he should have been whistling, lighthearted, content with his life in general—and he had been, until his lovely and mysterious partner shook him awake to kick him out of her hotel room. Oh, she'd done it pleasantly enough, with teasing suggestions and sultry kisses that didn't ruin the mood they'd maintained throughout the evening, but she _had_ kicked him out.

It shouldn't have bothered him more than the usual regret at well-spent time coming to an end, but it did. He kept going back over the afternoon in his mind, the laughter, the sighs, the short stretches of talk interspersed with longer stretches of self-indulgence, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force it into the normal box of "casual pleasure". She'd fallen asleep in his arms; she'd trusted him with secrets hidden deep inside her, and then he'd done the same, the progression so natural he almost hadn't realized he'd done it. Miroku had had his fair share of "casual pleasure"; from the moment she'd pulled him into her room, there had been nothing casual about the pleasure they'd shared. He had the feeling she'd sensed it too, so her cheerfully packing him off chafed at a deep level.

She'd never answered his question about leaving, either.

One of the best experiences of his life all right; it had left him with a strange, twisted feeling in his gut, as if he'd held something of irreplaceable beauty and value in his hands only to watch it slip through his fingers and shatter across the floor. As he stepped from the porch into the latent warmth of the kitchen and kicked off his dirty boots, he was in no mood for polite company.

"Hey. Guess you're still alive after all."

For _impolite_ company, either.

Miroku sighed and set his boots in their appropriate cubby by the door, then slipped on house slippers before he looked up to see InuYasha standing on the other side of the kitchen, arms crossed and shoulder propped against the edge of the doors opening into the hallway. Kagome had left the light over the stove on, as she usually did, and in the soft yellow light InuYasha's golden eyes gleamed. But he wasn't scowling, as Miroku had expected him to be. He had a peculiar frown on his face, as if he were puzzling out an oddity.

"You doubted me?" Miroku shoved his hands into the pocket of his jacket. "You're up late tonight."

A grunt. "Couldn't sleep. Heard you drive in."

"Oh? Worried about something?"

"You mean something other than my manager up and vanishing with the truck for a whole fucking day, leaving the rest of us to deal with a VIP old man that always smells like tobacco and medicine?"

"Ah...Tanaka-san," Miroku said, his tone awed as he realized he hadn't spared one thought for one of the Sachi's most regular (and wealthiest) guests all evening. An uncharacteristic slip, and one that should have bothered him, but he waved it off with fatalistic shrug. "I'm certain you managed, but if you didn't, I'll see to the matter tomorrow."

"The old man is fine. He's got some kind of crush on Kaede, so he almost didn't notice you were gone." InuYasha's ears twitched. "That still doesn't mean you can just disappear without saying shit to me."

Miroku was not particularly in the mood for a lecture from _him_. "Special circumstances."

InuYasha snorted. "Yeah, I can smell your 'special circumstances'." He paused, and his frown darkened, his attention focusing like a laser on Miroku. "Since that's not Koharu, I'm guessing you spent all this time with that tourist you've been chasing?"

So, he'd been with Sango enough over the past couple of weeks for InuYasha to take special note of her scent. Annoyance licked along his spine; damn that nose of his, anyway. Miroku had to make a conscious effort to keep his tone casual. "Since when do you take an interest in the women with whom I spend my free time?"

Another snort. "I'm just making sure. Paying special attention to strange women has gotten you into trouble before, and this time you could drag us all down with you."

Miroku rubbed a finger along his brow, a conscious effort to keep it from ticking. He could feel his temper fraying, like the repeated sawing of a rope over a sharp edge. "That was _once_—and that poor, beautiful soul really did need help. Besides, this woman isn't a youkai, nor is she possessed by one."

Skepticism flared briefly in InuYasha's eyes, but they remained steady, probing. "Yeah? Who is she, then?"

Someone who had fallen asleep in his arms with a vulnerability that her guarded demeanor and strength would never hint at. Someone who had kissed, licked, and studied the damage in his right hand, but who had never once asked him to explain it or made him feel the need to justify it with some white-washed story. "Never mind who she is." Never mind that he wasn't all that sure himself. "It doesn't matter."

InuYasha was watching him as if he knew something that Miroku didn't; it was a foreign look, disturbing in its rarity. "Why not?"

Still in his jacket pocket, his hands clenched around a resurgent feeling of loss. "Because today was her goodbye present."

InuYasha's black brows shot up. "You're not seeing her again? But—"

Miroku was done talking about what he didn't want to talk about; it was the grumpy hanyou's turn. "This worry that's keeping you up. Does it have anything to do with Kagome asking us about Kikyou this morning?"

With a jerk of his body, a snap of his teeth, and a gulping sound, InuYasha shut up. Even in the dim light, he looked vaguely ill, as if he'd just eaten something slimy and decaying.

_Don't have much to say now, do you_? Miroku thought, taking a few steps toward his friend (who stood right in the path to his room and his bed) now that he was on much firmer territory. "Now, where, I wonder, did she hear that name?"

The frown morphed into a anger-laden scowl. Those golden eyes flitted away from his. "That's..." Guilt sulked across his features. "You didn't tell her anything."

Miroku contemplated being insulted by that for a moment, but decided it was fair, given the way things had been going since Kagome had interrupted their routine. "No," he said. "But that doesn't mean she's going to just give up. Kaede told her to get the story from you." He paused. "She thinks its a good thing you talked about her."

InuYasha's jaw clenched defensively. "I _didn't_. It...slipped."

_Slipped_? Oh, yes, Miroku could imagine—had, in fact, especially when the kitchen door had remained shut tight for almost an hour after the Hidaka incident, and the pointed way the two had avoided even looking at each other for almost a day after that. He took a few more steps, skimmed his fingers along the table's edge. "Got carried away, did you?"

The ears at the top of his head flicked once, hard. He still wouldn't meet Miroku's keen gaze. "I didn't mean to—I was just trying to..._stop_."

As sure a confirmation of his suspicions as Miroku would ever get, but this one had him taking a few mental steps back in surprise. He stopped moving at the edge of the table, a few feet away from the doorway, studying the hanyou still blocking his way out. InuYasha had uttered Kikyou's name, for the first time since they'd left Tokyo, as a deterrent to _passion_? The irony here was delicious, but it was the potential truth behind it that snagged his interest. "Did it work?"

InuYasha remained silent, but his quick, panicked glance was answer enough; it might have worked, but only just.

A few more strands frayed away from the considerable rope of his temper. Kikyou and that whole terrible mess was finally losing its stranglehold on him (to Miroku's mind, a Very Good Thing), and the moron was fighting it. Fate had dropped into InuYasha's lap a beautiful, kind-hearted woman who cared for him, was willing (possibly even eager) to indulge in the more pleasurable aspects of a relationship, and whose company so thoroughly engaged him that he didn't seem to remember or mind the circumstances that had brought him to the Sachi. And he wanted her enough, despite all the potential dangers, that he had to keep taking emergency measures to keep himself away from her.

What they had here was a perpetual check, one where not only did InuYasha hold the weaker position, but any move other than the one he'd been making would change the entire game. Usually, Miroku would sit back and enjoy the entertainment value of the situation, but tonight he felt only irritation. InuYasha didn't have to chase Kagome, wonder what she was thinking and feeling...worry that she'd leave before they could figure out what they had. But for some reason—guilt, a misplaced sense of duty, even fear—he was throwing up every block he could think of to keep himself from taking hold of this potential happiness. He was being handed something valuable and beautiful on a silver platter—_and he wasn't even going to pick it up_.

The ungrateful bastard.

_The problem with perpetual check_, Miroku thought with grim satisfaction, _is that it's against the rules in shogi. And rule violation earns you a penalty_. "In case you haven't figured it out, this is a problem. If Kagome happens to mention her curiosity to the wrong guest, someone who remembers or followed the situation, it could bring unwanted attention our way. And since this is a problem of _your_ making, you're going to have to be the one to fix it."

InuYasha's head whipped around, and his body straightened out of its casual slump. "Fix it! How the hell do you think I should fix it? It's not like I can go back and unsay it. And why would she mention it to a guest anyway? She doesn't know anything about Kikyou, so—"

"She knows Kikyou was important to you," Miroku cut in, quietly. InuYasha winced and looked away. "It was obvious from the way she asked about her. And since you were idiotic enough to 'slip' in what is most certainly the _worst_ situation to utter an ex-girlfriend's name, you hurt Kagome's feelings. It's not something she's likely to dismiss or forget."

InuYasha slammed his arm against the door frame, curled his claws into the (thankfully) sturdy wood. "I didn't mean to," he said, voice rough and low. "But I don't know how to fix it."

Miroku stared at him for long moment, eyes dark, feeling more sympathetic to Kagome than he did to his best friend. He drew a deep breath, shoring his patience. "Fine. I'm going to tell you what to do. You're an idiot, so you won't do it, but at least you'll know I tried to help."

He had InuYasha's attention again, a glare and a quick-tempered snarl. "Listen, you—"

"Tell Kagome everything."

Shock pulled InuYasha up short, and he just stared at Miroku, mouth open.

"Tell her about Kikyou, Shippou, about our lives before Sachi, how we ended up in Hokkaido—hell, tell her about Naraku. Answer all of her questions, and _don't lie_ to her, because you're terrible at it. Tell her everything she wants to know until she understands why we don't talk about it." Miroku paused, eyeing the way his friend's expression was morphing from shocked into mulish resistance. He waited for InuYasha's mouth to open for the mandatory rejection, then cut him off. "And then, after she decides she's okay with being with a known murderer, move her into your room."

"_What!_?"

Miroku's smile was an unforgiving reflection of his mood. "Everyone else will be happier, and she'll be warmer. The room we gave her is one of the coldest in the Sachi, you know."

"It is not! That room—that's not the point!" InuYasha snapped back, sputtering. "We can't just... Besides, that's none of your—the hell! I can't!" The wood beneath his hand cracked ominously.

Wry amusement turned Miroku's grim smile into a grin as he zeroed in on the objection that most interested him. "You _can't_? I doubt that. If that were the case, we wouldn't even be having this conversation because 'slipping' wouldn't be an issue."

"You fucking bastard! You know that's not what I meant! I can't tell her about _Kikyou_! She might—" This time he cut himself off, his jaw clamping tight.

"What are you afraid of? That once she hears the whole story, you'll have nothing left to protect you from her?"

"Don't be stupid." InuYasha pressed his thumb and fingers against his eyes for a moment; when they dropped away, and his eyes were hard, implacable. "I'm supposed to be protecting everyone. If what happened with Kikyou happens again, I might not be able to."

Miroku's first inclination was to dismiss it as an excuse. But Miroku, more than anyone, knew how much Kikyou's betrayal had hurt InuYasha, because he'd been there to see it and had suffered along with him because of it. Her death and everything related to it had left a terrible wound, one that hadn't seemed to be healing properly until Kagome came along. As hard as it was for Miroku to believe the Kagome would, or even could, rip that wound open again, the suffering that would ensue if she did would affect all of them, not just InuYasha.

It was a gamble, yes, but not an unreasonable one, and the payoff had the potential to be quite significant. InuYasha might suffer in the future, but he was suffering now, too, and as long-lived youkai often forgot, life didn't deal in guarantees—all anyone could do was make the best play possible with the information available. As far as Miroku was concerned the current evidence was not in favor of InuYasha's position. Besides, Miroku had always been firmly of the opinion that suffering should only be engaged in if there were no other alternatives.

And, without hard evidence to the contrary, he didn't consider suffering in want of a woman to be a viable alternative to _not_ suffering _with_ her.

He sighed again, then studied the ceiling thoughtfully. "You're right. We can't trust her. We'll have to kick her out, then, move her along before she figures out anything more serious." Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the way InuYasha's head jerked up. "I'll get get some cash together, and we can drop her off with the local authorities tomor—"

InuYasha's claws twisted into the collar of Miroku's jacket, choking off the rest of his words, along with his breath. His words tumbled out, barely discernible through a rough growl. "Are you crazy? You're not _throwing her out_!"

Slowly, Miroku let his gaze drop to meet InuYasha's, the gold narrowed and darkened to furious amber. The last few threads of his temper snapped. "It's the only safe and sensible thing to do, isn't it? After all, we still don't know anything about her—"

"_We can't kick her out because of that_!" Outrage.

"—and she's threatening us all with exposure—"

"She's never threatened anybody!" Indignation.

"—and she's nothing more than a glorified guest, anyway. Guests always leave, so we should hurry her—"

"She has nowhere else to go, you son-of-a-bitch!" Protectiveness.

"But Kagome probably doesn't even need our help. Imagine, with her body and sweet personality, she'll have men falling all over themselves to—"

Hands tightening, thinning his air supply. A vicious snarl. Jealousy as sound.

Miroku fought the urge to wheeze and kept going. "Besides, it must be terrible for you, being reminded of Kikyou every time you see—"

"Kagome's nothing like Kikyou!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, shock chased away his rage. His eyes widened, and his grip on Miroku's clothes loosened. "Shit. You bastard."

After a few deep, unobstructed breaths, Miroku reached up and pushed InuYasha's unresisting hands away. "I don't think she is, either," he agreed. "So maybe we should stop treating her as if we expect her to be."

InuYasha looked away, lips curled in a sulk. "Just because she's staying doesn't mean we can trust her."

But Miroku knew from the disgruntled look on InuYasha's face that he'd made his point. "So don't trust her. Just tell her enough to satisfy the curiosity that _you_ stirred up, and we'll all keep an eye on her. If you want to continue torturing yourself, that's your prerogative, but for the peace of mind of all the rest of us, you should at least tell her about Kikyou—now that she's heard the name and knows she was important, it's better for her to know than to wonder. At the very worst, she's an enemy and already knows what happened; if not, we'll still be safer with her understanding the whole story and acting accordingly." Nor would it hurt InuYasha to get the last bit of puss out of that wound before it healed up completely; Miroku suspected that, if he'd just talk about it with her, Kagome would be able to draw out the important details, things the rest of them had never been able to reach.

Because, to InuYasha, Kagome was a beautiful and valuable thing, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.

"What about the asshole? Have they found anything yet?"

InuYasha's scowl was still more resistance than acceptance, and the abrupt change of subject meant he was done talking about it. Miroku hesitated, then let it go; he knew InuYasha was thinking it over and that was enough for the moment. Instead, he thought back to the response e-mail he'd gotten from Sesshoumaru's devoted little youkai assistant, who'd taken personal umbrage at his lack of respect for his lord and demanded a "less offensive" picture, and had to fight an unexpected grin. "Not yet, but that's to be expected. They don't have much to go on." He'd sent them a picture of Kagome's necklace, too. Given the quality of the silver and the delicate craftsmanship, he'd thought it might provide a clue. "I'll let you know if and when they do."

A grunt was the only thing InuYasha had to say about that.

Miroku shook out his sleeves, then frowned as he brushed at the small slices in the front of his jacket. "It's been far too eventful a day," he said with finality, stepping around the still-scowling hanyou. "I'm going to bed. You figure out what you want to do about this, but you need to do something."

_Change the game, InuYasha_.

"Nothing's changed from the day I brought her in, you know. We still don't know who she is, and we still don't know who left her for dead out there."

"And she still needs our help because of it. After all, as long as she stays dead, no one will come looking to kill her, will they? Sound familiar?" Miroku paused in the doorway and turned to face InuYasha. "Besides, I think you're wrong. A few things have changed."

InuYasha snorted. "Yeah, now she's figured out she's got the kind of power that can really hurt me."

Miroku half-smiled, wondering if InuYasha even knew the meaning of the words "double entendre". "I wasn't talking about her."

InuYasha's brows twisted. "What, then?"

"Four."

"Huh?"

"That's the number of times you said Kikyou's name within the last fifteen minutes. And it's almost as many years as it's been since the last time I heard you even acknowledge she existed."

InuYasha looked so taken aback that any lingering resentment in Miroku's chest evaporated. Satisfied, he turned and left InuYasha to his thoughts.

* * *

Miroku detoured for a hot bath, then went straight to his room, where he had every intention of collapsing into his bed. At the last moment, as his hand reached up to shut off the light overhead, a ghost of that clenching loss of the invaluable whispered through him. He hesitated, then went over to his desk and pulled out the phone that was tucked away behind some of the more important equipment. Cell phones were mostly useless in the mountains that nestled Sachi, since reception was spotty at best; they had a satphone that was reliable, but it was for emergencies only so they never used it. Instead, they'd run out a landline from Sounkyo, connected it to several strategic rooms within Sachi. There was a phone on the reception station, of course, but Miroku also had one in his room, since he often worked from there.

It was very, very late, so the clerk manning the front desk of the hotel sounded bored, but obliged him by looking up the room he requested. "You're in luck, sir. Suite one-ninety-three was just vacated about an hour ago. Would you like to reserve it?"

Miroku hung up, then sat there, staring down at his empty hands.

* * *

Dawn was breaking, and Kagome paced in the kitchen. It had been a long, sleepless night for her, first sitting alone in her room, then laying in her pile of bedding, staring wide-eyed up into the dark; finally, after she'd had enough of the burning black silence, she'd adjourned to the kitchen (whose sign was rather oddly blank that morning, though a new sign next to the stove was labeled "comfort station") for a little quiet contemplation in the light, and to wrap her cold hands around a steaming cup of tea. Anything to calm her raging thoughts.

The initial impact of Kikyou's picture had stunned her enough that she hadn't wanted to see anyone, so she'd tidied up like she'd told Shippou she would, then secluded herself in her room for the night. She'd taken a printout of the article and its picture with her, re-read it several times since; it was sitting in her pocket, burning her through her clothes. She'd read a few more of the articles before she'd left, but had only taken the one, and hadn't searched out any information beyond that. She didn't know why—maybe it felt wrong, sneaking around behind everyone's back to find information about them that they hadn't been willing to tell her themselves; maybe she'd just been afraid of what else she'd see. That first blow had knocked her down hard, and she hadn't quite recovered. The full weight of the implications hadn't dawned on her until late that night. It wasn't just InuYasha—Miroku and Kaede had obviously known about Kikyou, too. Had they been aware of the similarity from the very start? Had they all spent all this time looking at her but seeing someone else? It was a deeply unsettling feeling, as if the world she'd thought she'd known all this time had suddenly turned upside down and inside out.

Nothing had helped. Not only could she not reconcile that damn article, but she couldn't shake the horrifying fact that she was the spitting image of InuYasha's dead ex-girlfriend. The one he'd loved and supposedly killed. Even putting aside the disturbing and confusing pseudo-fact of murder, if she, Kagome, was nothing but a substitute...

That _hurt._ Her lungs ached with that tight, suffocated feeling, but her eyes were itchy and dry. It meant that everything she'd thought had been happening between them was a facade, a pleasant screen hiding the ugliness of a murky pond. All the quiet feelings that had been growing inside her, the heat in his eyes in those unguarded moments, the intensity she felt between them with every touch...it was all for someone else. _She_, Kagome, was someone else, but not really (because she didn't actually have an identity, did she?)—and for the first time since she'd opened her eyes and started making a life here, she felt it as a loss. She was no one, but she resembled InuYasha's important person so much that he couldn't help but give her affection in place of that other person.

She cringed away from the thought. No wonder he'd been pushing her away.

How did something like that even _happen?_ How could she be sitting here, with almost the exact same features, the same powers, as a dead woman? And what kind of insane fate had placed her directly on the doorstep of the one person who'd been closer to that dead woman than anyone else? She didn't know, and she couldn't know, because the same fate had taken from her whatever ability she might have had to separate herself from the dead woman with a life of her own. Without that basic defense, it was almost as if she existed only as someone else's living ghost.

It was enough to have her sinking back into her chair, picking up her lukewarm tea and staring in miserable, horrified silence. She couldn't help but wonder what had really happened between InuYasha and Kikyou. She wondered if he ever really saw her, Kagome, with those eyes that were so good at making her skin tingle, or if it was always her, Kikyou. She wondered what was the right thing to do with this information now that she had it sitting so heavily inside her, weighing her down more because of what she _didn't_ know than of what she did. She could just ask, she supposed, but would InuYasha bother to answer—and if he did, would she be able to take the truth, whatever it was?

And then she wondered if she didn't really belong in the Sachi after all.

* * *

Even though she felt no closer to resolving all the questions running around in her head, dawn still meant the start of a new day, and the duties that went along with it. Kagome started the rice for breakfast, put on tea and coffee, and had already pulled out cooking supplies by the time that Kaede arrived down the path from the cabin with a surprise—a barely awake Shippou in tow. Kagome had recently worried aloud about the two of them being even so short a distance away with the nights getting colder and colder, but Miroku had assured her Kaede and Shippou would move into the Sachi for the most dangerous few months of winter; since they often didn't have any guests during that coldest part of the year, they always had plenty of room. The move would happen very soon now, but until then, Kaede stubbornly trekked her way through the early morning peace whenever she felt like helping with breakfast.

Kagome, calmed by the routine, had composed herself enough to return a wan "good morning" to Kaede's greeting. Shippou mumbled a slurred version of the same and did what he always did when he accompanied Kaede so early in the morning: he curled up on a small, unused portion of counter space somewhere near Kagome and dozed in the warmth and smell of cooking breakfast. Kagome knew Kaede had to have noticed her uncharacteristic quiet, but the older woman kept her counsel, and Kagome was grateful.

Since Tanaka-san was their only guest right now, and he had already warned her that he'd take his morning meal in his room, the only group they had to worry about feeding was the staff. They had everything set by the time Miroku made an appearance. He endured some good-natured teasing from both Shippou and Kaede, but Kagome thought his smile seemed strained. He also seemed more solemn and preoccupied than normal, as if he'd just heard some bad news and was having a tough time absorbing it. Kagome was worried, but left him alone out of empathy; whatever had happened, she felt a strange kinship with his struggle.

Kagome was standing at the stove, serving Shippou another helping of rice when InuYasha came in. She _felt_ him enter; tension stiffened her back as she _felt_ his eyes skim over her. Her hand froze mid-scoop, her heart jumping into her throat. Greetings from the table pulled his attention away from her and she drew a deep, fortifying breath, scooped up another bowl for InuYasha, and returned to the table. She kept her eyes fixed firmly away from him as she set his bowl down and handed Shippou his second helping. Praying that InuYasha would stick to his habit of the last few days of eating and leaving quickly, she bowed her head over her own bowl. She hadn't yet tied her hair back, and it fell over her shoulder, providing her with a wavy black pseudo-screen between them.

The article in her pocket prickled against her thigh, crinkled with every shift of her body. She picked at her food, afraid everyone could hear it. To her right, Shippou started telling Miroku about their evening with Tanaka-san, but it sounded oddly hollow and distant. To her left, InuYasha ate. Slowly. Even though she couldn't see him, not even out of the corner of her eye, she was so hyper attuned to him that she followed his movements with her entire body: every shift, every grumble, every quick glance in her direction. It made her chest ache.

He kept _looking_ at her. She could sense it, his eyes flitting her way to hover thoughtfully for a moment before flicking away, only to return a few moments later. For the past two days, he'd been pretty much ignoring her, and now he wouldn't stop _looking_ at her!

Because she didn't know how to take that, and because it still sent a shiver through her body, tied her stomach in those thrilled knots, made her skin tight and sensitive to be the focus of that much of _his_ focus (Even though she couldn't be sure it was really _her_ he was seeing!), she shoved up from her seat. Her heart was pounding so hard she had to swallow before she could speak. "I'm done," she said, gathering her dishes.

Everyone stared at her. Shippou blinked. "But you hardly ate."

She gave him a tight smile. "I'm not very hungry this morning." The truth. The food she'd managed to ingest before InuYasha arrived felt like a cold lump of cardboard in her stomach.

"Oh." Shippou looked concerned, but he eyed her food anyway. "Can I have what you're not eating?"

She handed him the remainder of her meal, then looked at Kaede. "I'm going to drop off Tanaka-san's tray, and then I thought I'd clean upstairs today. Is it okay if I leave this to you?"

Kaede was watching her with curious black eyes, but she nodded. "Shippou and I will take care of the cleaning."

Kagome nodded her thanks, walked over to the stove to dish up Tanaka-san his portion of food along with a small, portable carafe of coffee, and turned to leave.

Came to an abrupt stop when she realized they were all still staring at her.

Against her will, her eyes touched on golden-hued ones, a mutual frowning, searching, studying. InuYasha was confused, worried, she could see that. They all were, but it was his concern that pricked at her conscience. She should just tell him, tell them all what her snooping had gotten her and let them be angry, get the air all cleared—even if that meant she'd no longer be welcome at Sachi. But it wasn't that fear (it was a small one, something she hadn't thought could happen until she realized they didn't trust her) that kept her mouth shut. It was the niggling possibility that if she pulled out that paper and asked all the questions that were burning inside her, InuYasha would tell her that the only thing he saw when he looked at her was a dead woman.

And then would that make _her_ nothing but a dead woman?

She forced her gaze away from InuYasha's and blinked at Miroku. "Is something wrong?" Stiff. She sounded stiff, but she couldn't seem to help it.

"Ah," Miroku's eyebrows shot upward. His gaze darted from her, to InuYasha and back again. "No? Unless you need help?"

"Of course not," she said. "Finish your breakfast." Then, knowing their eyes followed her, she left the kitchen with as much dignity as she could while still moving fast. Outside in the hallway, a new wooden sign greeted her, an arrow pointing the way to Tanaka-san's room with the words "Coward's Way" plopped mockingly above it.

She glared at the words as she blew by.

* * *

Something was definitely wrong with Kagome; she was upset, and past experience dictated that it was going to have a negative affect on the whole place. InuYasha stared, baffled, disturbed, at the empty doorway she left in her wake. Then he turned to find every eye at the table focused on him, two parts purple and black inquiry and one part green-eyed accusation.

Oh, come _on_. Why was it always _him_?

He sat up straight, set his jaw defensively. "I didn't do anything." _New_, he added silently under a stab of guilt.

"Besides what you've already done, of course," Miroku said oh-so-helpfully. The bastard.

"Yeah!" Shippou jumped up so he was standing in his chair, a much better position from which to point. But the hand wavered as he shot a sidelong glance at Miroku. "What'd he already do?"

InuYasha scowled down at the little kitsune, irritation almost overwhelming his worry for Kagome. "None of your business." He added up, at Miroku, "The last time I saw Kagome was last night at dinner, and she seemed fine. I didn't do anything."

Kaede eyed him, her beady black gaze probing. "Kagome was rather quiet as we prepared the meal this morning. And she'd been cooking for a while when we came in, so she must have been up well before the sun. Whatever has upset her happened before that, I would say."

Miroku frowned. "Who was the last person to see her?"

InuYasha thought for a moment, then narrowed his eyes onto the little red-haired demon who'd taken a sudden and intense interest in his food. "Didn't you say something about Kagome helping you with that shogi set?"

Shippou flinched.

"What shogi set?" Miroku asked, tone mild.

"The tournament one that Tanaka-san gave you," Shippou said, eyes sparkling like miniature fireworks. "We played Tanaka-san with it last night. Kagome helped me get it, but she seemed all right when I..." Shippou frowned, "...left."

"The shogi set that...you went digging around in my closet?" Miroku asked, tone still mild—stare, not so much. "You let her in my room?"

Shippou quailed a bit under Miroku's gaze, but InuYasha dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand. "The old man wanted to see it, and _you weren't here_," he reminded him. "What's more important is what's got Kagome so upset." He hadn't missed the way her back went up when he walked in, and her wariness of him had cut hard and deep. He deserved it since he'd been giving her the same treatment for the past couple of days, but it still hurt. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but it was necessary, especially after the way she'd melted into him after that whole stupid thing with that worthless bastard Hidaka.

Even InuYasha knew when he'd been an ass, and he'd done his best imitation of his brother that day. He'd hurt Kagome in more than one way; he hadn't needed Miroku to tell him that. But he'd had a damn good reason for leaving her, too.

Miroku thought he had what had happened that day in the kitchen all figured out, but if he asked for specifics, all he'd get was "a kiss". InuYasha knew better—and so did Kagome. What had happened between them had been surrender, pure and simple. Hot, honest, pulse-pounding, body-humming, wave-the-white-flag-and-take-off-all-your-clothes surrender.

And the only thing that had stopped him was the memory of the last time he'd surrendered on such a deep level, of everything it had cost him.

_That_ was why he'd been avoiding her. Because it was damn near impossible to walk back on surrender. It was a kind of hyper sensitivity; once you hit that tipping point, even if you somehow scrambled out once, all it took was a feather-touch, a soft nudge, to push you back over for good. Like a goddamned addict, he knew if he let himself stay too near her, it would only be a matter of time before they were both sweaty and naked in some secluded nook in Sachi. He could almost see it in his mind: the way her legs would wrap around his hips; the slick feel of her body closing around him; the rich, intoxicating scent of a female soaked with pleasure, just as it had been that day in the kitchen; the sounds she—

Furious, he snapped his hand into a tight fist, cutting off the thought and the growl that brewed in his chest along with it. He was the first to admit he wasn't very good at figuring out relationships, but one thing he knew for sure: his defenses when it came to Kagome were so flimsy it wouldn't take anything more than an unguarded moment for them to crumble. At this point, the draw of her was too strong; the _want_ was that overwhelming.

And then everyone, all of them, would have to deal with the consequences, however harsh they had the potential of being. He couldn't risk putting everyone else in that kind of danger. He couldn't let himself be that vulnerable, not to her, not to anyone ever again.

But that left him at a loss. What the fuck was he supposed to do? It wasn't like he could keep avoiding Kagome forever. She lived with them, was important to all of them. Just look at how her moods affected all of Sachi. Look at how painfully it stung to have her treat him the way he'd been treating her.

_Kagome is nothing like Kikyou_!

InuYasha barely suppressed a cringe, gave his head a small shake. Holy _damn_, why couldn't Miroku stay the hell out of it? He just _had_ to butt in and try to convince him the consequences wouldn't be that bad, didn't he?

"But," Shippou was saying, "she ran away after you came in! We all saw it. It _has_ to be you."

They all looked at him again. He gritted his teeth, flicked an ear. "I. Didn't. Do. Anything."

"Except mention Kikyou," Miroku said, voice and expression a matching shade of dry.

Shippou's whole body twitched. His eyes got really wide. "Kikyou? Is that all?" He flopped back in his chair. "Well, that can't be it, then. She was fine when she asked me about—" He seemed to realize that he'd said too much, because he popped back up and onto the table, and reached out to gather his dishes. "Oh, look at that. I'm full, too. I'll just take these..."

Now the little guy was the one who had all eyes. Normally, InuYasha would be mentally gloating over the turn, but just then he had too many senses twitching with panic. He leaned over, clamped a hand around Shippou's fluffy tail before he could jump from the table, and lifted until his fox feet kicked at the air. He got right in the brat's face, his eyes dangerously narrow. "She asked you about Kikyou? _When_?"

Miroku sat forward. "No, no. More importantly, what did you tell her?"

Miroku had an odd look on his face, as if he heard something disturbing in the distance but couldn't quite make out what it was. It made InuYasha's ears _itch_ when he looked like that.

"N...nothing? Because I'm not supposed to talk about it?"

Kaede broke her silence with a tired sigh. "Kikyou is a more delicate subject than you know, Shippou."

Shippou bowed his head. "I know. But Kagome said InuYasha told her, so I thought she already knew about her being his girlfriend."

InuYasha nearly choked.

Miroku's eyebrows went up. "Oh. That's bad timing."

Kaede's eyes filled to brimming with amusement. The bitch. "From the mouth of a kitsune. How appropriate for Kagome to hear such a troubling truth from a natural trickster."

Shippou's head came up. "But if Kikyou's been dead for—" He ended on a squeal as InuYasha's grip nearly cut off the blood supply to his tail.

His throat felt tight. "You told her _that_, too?"

Shippou hesitated, eyeing the way InuYasha's free hand fisted, opened, then fisted again, working at keeping some emotion at bay. "Uh...yeah..." He gulped, then shut his mouth.

InuYasha stood, unclenching his hand from around Shippou's pale puff; the little troublemaker hit the table with a plate-clattering thud. "What else did you tell her?" he growled.

"Hey! You didn't have to drop me!" Shippou sat up, rubbing at the red mark the table had left on his nose. He was scowling, but it slipped away as his eyes flitted from InuYasha's face, to his fist and back again, then rounded. He scooted back along the table, dislodging tableware and food. "N-nothing! I didn't tell her anything else! Absolutely nothing!"

Fine. That was bad enough. He couldn't even hit the brat in any fairness, because it was his fault Kagome had known to ask about _her_ to begin with. About Kikyou. Fury bubbled in his chest with the hot force of molten rock.

_Shit_.

He didn't even know why he was so angry. Who cared if Kagome knew he had an ex-girlfriend who was now dead? Why would that upset her, anyway—everyone had an ex, right? It wasn't like she knew anything about the really bad stuff...

...like that last fight..._her_ apartment...the handcuffs...the _smell_...

Blood. Everywhere.

He closed his eyes, pressed his thumb and fingers against his lids, trying to wipe the images away. He was remembering useless shit again. It was all useless, when there was nothing he could do to go back and change it, nothing he could do to make it right. All he could do was make sure it never happened again.

"I'm done," he bit out without looking around. "If you need me, I'll be working outside today." He couldn't, off the top of his head, think of anything that needed work since he'd finished with the roof, but the Sachi was an old bastard of a house. He'd find something.

* * *

After InuYasha left, a few moments of silence dominated the kitchen. Miroku had his elbows braced on the table, arms propped hand-to-fist in front of him, a look of intense concentration on his face. Shippou shot a helpless, questioning look at Kaede, but she shook her head, waved him off.

Then Miroku sat back in his chair, amazement breaking like dawn across his face. "Shippou?" he asked in a calm, conversational tone. "You told Kagome that InuYasha was involved with Kikyou?"

"Y...yeah."

"And then you told her Kikyou was dead?"

Shippou looked frightened. "Yeah...but she promised not to say anything to anyone. She _promised_."

Miroku didn't miss the guilt on Shippou's face, but he just nodded. "And then you let her into my room?"

Shippou's brow wrinkled, and he stared suspiciously for a moment, as if sensing a trap. "Yeah, to get Tanaka-san's shogi set."

Miroku continued nodding. "And was she alone with my computer for any amount of time?"

"Well..." Caution made Shippou dodgy. "Maybe a little. Why?"

"Because from what I can tell, Kagome wasn't truly upset until after you were in my room." Miroku glanced at the closed doors that had spit InuYasha out into the day, torn between amused horror and real apprehension. "And she already knows we came from Tokyo."

Shippou's face crunched in confusion for maybe half a second before the intelligence he'd inherited from his father asserted itself; realization spread across his face, widening his eyes before his shoulders slumped under the weight of the potential consequences. "Uh-oh."

"Oh my," Kaede said, drily. "You should be pleased, Miroku. Things may be about to get very interesting for all of us."

"Most likely." Miroku nodded, then shrugged. "No help for it. It was bound to happen eventually."

Kaede, whose amused expression had only been growing more amused as the morning went on, lifted a brow. "Will you warn him?"

"Warn him," Miroku murmured. "Why would I? That would just give him a chance to muster a defense."

"Is that wise? Another incident like what happened before would destroy him."

With a deep frown, Miroku sat back and folded his arms, his eyes turned inward. "Another incident like what happened before is likely to destroy us all. Naraku's not an enemy that makes the same mistake twice."

Shippou's entire body jerked, trembled; his voice squeaked. "N-Naraku?"

Miroku ignored the kitsune and continued frowning for a moment before he drew a deep breath and sighed tiredly. "But sometimes you just have to wager on a good outcome."

Kaede lifted both brows. "It's not like you to wager without favorable odds."

"I know." Miroku looked out the hallway, where Kagome had disappeared, then at the outside door, after InuYasha. "Maybe I just want to believe in Kagome."

"You know," said Shippou after a moment, scowling in a manner reminiscent of InuYasha. "I deserve to know everything that's going on like everyone else here does."

Miroku affected a surprised look. "Why? So you can tell random strangers all of our life stories?"

Shippou gulped, then looked away. "Uh...maybe not."

Miroku stood, stretched, and headed for the hallway. "Never mind—you're right. If we'd told you everything before, this wouldn't have happened. Finish helping Kaede, then come find me. I'll tell you about InuYasha and Kikyou."

* * *

After that quietly explosive breakfast, the day passed in relative mundanity.

Miroku spent most of the day with a jovial Tanaka-san, Kaede and Shippou cleaned the kitchen, then moved on to some of the common rooms downstairs, and Kagome spent her time secluded upstairs, dusting and scrubbing out rooms that hadn't been used for a while.

InuYasha spent his day outside, checking windows, weather stripping, old sections of wood, replacing anything that needed replacing (and at least one thing that didn't). And then, when he couldn't find anything else to fix or check, he spent several hours chopping up wood for the fireplace the boring and human way—with an ax. It was freezing outside, even for him, but it was better than enduring the silent expectation that practically oozed from the walls of the Sachi; it was as if the building itself were holding its breath, straining to see not if, not when, but _which side_ of the status quo would crack first.

He managed to skip lunch entirely and barely made it back inside for dinner, where that old man Tanaka-san insisted on joining them for dinner in the kitchen (he didn't like the way the dining room echoed when it was empty, he said). With both Tanaka-san and Miroku at their most charming around the table, an easy-going facade glossed over dinner and kept most of them smiling.

But the ease was on the surface only, just solid enough to let them all pretend that nothing was wrong. Kaede flirted (and InuYasha gave an internal shudder at the sight) with their elderly guest, but kept a watchful eye on both InuYasha and Kagome. Shippou stayed cheerful, but was quieter than normal, and his worried peeks went mostly in Kagome's direction, while Miroku slid a measuring glance InuYasha's way every few minutes or so. It was a stupid fucking play, and all it did was put him in a bad mood because he knew they were all waiting, just like the damn house, expecting something to change before their eyes.

As for Kagome...

Kagome made him uneasy. She moved quietly, smiled gently at Tanaka-san's jokes, sat there as calm and undisturbed as if the whole world were fair and fine instead of screwed up and warped, but she never looked at him. He might as well not have been there for all she acknowledged him—but, strangely, he didn't think she was angry. It felt more like...she'd put up an invisible wall, one that held enough distance between them that he felt like a stranger. He should have been fine with it, because that stupid invisible barrier of hers was the most effective "hands off" reminder he'd ever had. Instead, ever since it had started, his predominant urge had been to break it, to put his fist through it and get her to be pissy with him again and quit treating him to this quiet fucking indifference.

And to top it off, he couldn't stop _sensing_ her. When she dished up a happily flirting Tanaka-san an extra helping of meat, the whisper of her clothes against her skin made his ears twitch in an attempt to ignore the sound. She turned her head to smile at Shippou's question, and his eyes narrowed on, glared at, went without his permission to the curve of her mouth. She shifted in her seat, changed her breathing, sipped her fucking tea, and he caught it. Her scent was everywhere, dulling every other scent, tainting his food., tying him up in damn knots. He was so fucking aware of her it was downright ridiculous.

And because he was so aware of her, he noticed something else: the pulse in her neck? The tiny throbbing beat that should have been slow and steady if she were really as calm as she appeared? It was going about ten times too fast.

And for some reason, the moment he noticed it, _his_ heart sped up to match. His fingers strummed against his thigh; nervous energy crackled through him _for no fucking reason_, building a static charge in what felt like every cell in his body. It was almost as if _he_ were expecting something to happen, too.

All she was doing was sitting there, smiling at everyone but him.

It was. Really. Pissing. Him. Off.

The further along dinner went, the more furious InuYasha grew. Kikyou had suddenly become an invisible, unspoken presence between them, and he was angry because it was his fault it had even come up. He was angry because he'd hurt her more than he'd thought, and even more so that he couldn't do anything to fix it without following Miroku's advice and putting all their secrets (and himself) at her mercy. Mostly, he was angry that he was sitting there, in a stupid chair, without even the right to be angry that she was smiling at everyone but him.

By the time dinner had ended, the conflict had built up under his skin, a slow simmer in his blood that he needed to work off. So, without a word to anyone he headed outside and ran. It was dark, and the air itself seemed icy and unforgiving, settling deep into his bones and chilling his brain, but he didn't stop, because it was still better than not knowing what the hell to do about Kagome.

It took him fifteen minutes and the gurgle of water to realize where his feet had dragged him. He slowed to a stop at almost exactly the place on the rocky edge of the stream where he'd found Kagome. The water was still moving, though the ice was spreading, growing like fuzzy white moss over the rocks, clumping in small nooks along the banks, and creeping out into the flow. It was well on its way to being completely frozen—as everything, even the waterfalls that sprinkled throughout the Daisetsuzan—would be within the next week or two. Downstream just a bit, the large rock slab that had kept Kagome from drowning thrust out of the water, a natural "fuck you"—insulting, indifferent, and layered with a heavy mix of snow and ice.

InuYasha scowled at it, presented it one of his fingers in return, then turned on his heel, the crunch of thick rubber soles on snow the only sound as he walked upstream, studying the mysterious stretch of water that had spit out a woman from nowhere.

Except she couldn't have come from _nowhere_. There was an answer out here, somewhere, and if he could just find it, just understand her and what had happened, he'd know what to do.

The narrow stretch of liquid widened as he followed it, strengthened and deepened as he got nearer the source. The water had carved its way through the trees and down the slope of a mountain; it only took a bit of climbing for him to reach its source, a large pool at the bottom of a high, steep-sided canyon, fed by the rush of a minor waterfall. Eyes narrow, he tipped his head back, studying the craggy walls, the way the land cut back and away high above, forming a broad, tree-choked shelf before the mountain continued its rise in the distance.

Something alien, a wisp of the out-of-place, slipped across his nose.

Unease kicked at his gut, and his head whipped around, trying to follow the scent, but it had vanished as lighting-quick as it had appeared. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and turned a slow circle, ears and nose alert to every detail of the quiet nature around him. For several minutes he did this, primed and ready to go after whatever the hell had just pricked his sense of danger, but the trace was as gone as if it had never been. With a subsonic growl, he prowled the bank, sniffing at the air, straining to hear anything unusual.

Nothing. Nothing dangerous or even mildly irregular anywhere, not even that hint of something out-of-place to chase down and investigate. He couldn't even say for sure that it had actually been there at all, because he couldn't recall anything about it, other than the sense of danger—a passing predator, maybe, or a stray brush of decaying prey.

This deep into the Daisetsuzan, it could have been anything or nothing.

Frustration piling onto frustration, he stopped. Still alert to possible threats, but without any other recourse, he turned his glare back to the canyon, the water, the doubts making his life so miserable right now.

The disquiet deep inside wouldn't go away—something was wrong here; he knew it, he just couldn't find it. Somewhere between the waterfall and the rock slab, Kagome had managed to get herself shot in the head and nearly frozen to death in icy water. And she had to have hit the water quickly after being shot, because otherwise she would have lost more blood, and he'd have caught her scent easily instead of just barely.

He took a three-quarter turn, eyes following the gentle way the trees sloped down and away from the canyon, to a hilly portion of the land that stretched out in every direction. It was a decent hike, especially for a human in a nightgown in near-freezing conditions, but Sounkyo lay somewhere beyond the waterfall. It wasn't impossible that she could have come from that direction. But—into the freezing night with virtually no protection—why the hell would she?

_Son-of-a-bitch_.

It was just so unbelievable, all of it. There were just too many things that might have gone wrong. It had been mere chance that he'd gone running that night, nothing but a whim that had brought him in this direction, and nothing more than a damn wisp of a barely-there breeze that had brought the scent of her blood his way in time to save her. She'd been half submerged in freezing water; if circumstances hadn't been exactly perfect, he'd never have found her at all, and she would have died. It strained all credulity to think that she was some kind of plant or spy.

But so did her powers, the similar features—though it had been a while since he'd thought of her in those terms. When he thought of Kagome, he thought of the warm drinks she always had ready for anyone who wanted it, the cheerful way she went about her daily routine, how much fun it could be to irritate her, and how much he hated really pissing her off. He thought about how boring life had become before her, and how much more interesting it was now, with her.

He thought about the dressing room, the kitchen, that night in the attic; about her tiny little room after midnight, the look of her all rumpled and sleepy, and how her mouth against his had seared all the way into his blood, and then never left. He thought about the addicting taste of her, the blood-churning pleasure of having her her skin smooth against his, and the incredible temptation to indulge in it—

_Every. Single. Day_.

When he thought of Kagome, he didn't think of betrayal, loss, and death.

His teeth ground together, the impact rolling through his jaw, and he turned away.

He had responsibilities. They were the only remnant he had of his old life in Tokyo, and they were no joke. Shippou was a strong, smart kid—he had to be to have survived what he had—but he was still a kid, and he needed protecting. Miroku had lost his whole life because of his loyalty to InuYasha, and Kaede... He and Kaede had a special relationship, and his obligations to her weren't something InuYasha took lightly. They had all suffered some terrible losses, and they had finally found a measure of peace in the Sachi.

Kagome risked that peace. As bright as she made everything, she had the potential to tear down the lives they'd rebuilt, and possibly cost them those lives entirely. He couldn't trust her, no matter how much he wanted to.

No matter how much he wanted to.

Chest tight, scowl furious, he dug his boot into the snow and kicked, sending snow and twigs and dirt spraying across the bank and onto the iced-over water.

Where had she come from and why had she come here? Why had someone shot her? Where had the shooter gone? How could she be so similar to, and yet so very different from, a woman who had been dead for five years?

So many questions. Why did none of the answers seem as important as he knew they were?

* * *

He walked back. The sun was long gone by the time he reached Sachi, and he was tired—more from his own inner conflict than from any physical demands he'd placed on himself. He hadn't been sleeping well for several days, and he was certain (and deeply grateful) he would manage to get some that night. So he went straight to his room.

He was sure. He went straight to his room.

That was why he was stunned so incredibly stupid when he slid the door open to find himself in one of the front common rooms, the snap and sizzle of a fire in the fireplace blasting warmth through the room. And there, curled up in one corner of the couch, arms hugging her knees as she stared into the blaze with a face so troubled he felt an irrational (and stupid) stirring of fury at the person who'd caused it, sat Kagome.

He blinked at her and glanced at the hallway behind him, confused and half-convinced he was seeing things until—_her scent_. Warm and rich, a tantalizing balm to his near-frozen senses; it was painful in the way that cold-numb skin is painful at contact with heat; it hit him first with a tingly all-over sting, but the sting faded away, leaving only that gut-twisting tingle. It was Kagome, all right, real and heady and alone in front of the fire. And so, apparently, was he.

Even though he _knew_ he'd gone to his room.

God. Damn. House.

"InuYasha." She turned her head to look at him, and the fire cast her face in light and shadows, both so soft they almost blended into each other. She hesitated, as if she wasn't sure what to say. "You're back."

He grunted, mostly because _he_ couldn't think of anything to say.

Kagome nodded as if he had, but she seemed distracted. Her eyes kept flitting away from him, down and to the side where she had one hand tucked behind a jean-clad thigh. "Are—are you cold? Would you like something hot to drink?"

"I went to the stream."

That got her eyes on him. "Stream?"

He watched her closely. "Where I found you."

She looked startled, but all she said was, "Oh." She seemed at a loss. "Sometimes I forget... Did you find anything?"

"No."

_Yes. I want to pretend the past doesn't exist. I want to trust you so bad it hurts_.

He scowled, pushed the thought away. "You're sure you don't remember anything?"

A strange look crossed her face, and she glanced away. Her fingers curled against her leg. "No. I don't remember anything."

InuYasha felt a stab of guilt, but couldn't figure out why. That rubbed him wrong, made his voice gruff. "Make sure you let me know if you do."

"Is it so important? Remembering?"

She still had her face turned away, towards the fire, but her voice was strained, and her scent had shifted, taken on shades of tension and anxiety. His scowl darkened, and he was a few steps into the room before he realized he'd moved. With effort, he stopped. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Of course it's important. Someone tried to kill you. Knowing who and why makes it easier to protect you if they ever try again."

"Protect me," she murmured. She rested her chin on her knee and fixed her eyes on the floor. "And what if I never remember who I am? Are you okay with protecting someone who is no one?"

Irritation prickled across his skin like an unscratchable itch, and he stepped forward again, deliberately this time, and didn't stop until he'd dropped to a crouch directly into her line of sight.

Her skin was literally inches away. Her scent was everywhere around him, soft and seductive.

A spasm ran through his fingers, and he pushed his hands into the cushion on either side of her body, caught her dark gray eyes and forced her to focus on him. "Hey. Quit being stupid. Just because you don't remember your past doesn't make you no one. If you were no one, I wouldn't have to worry about protecting you."

Her eyes flashed at him, and she unfolded, sat forward. Her bare feet slapped to the floor between them. Something—a piece of paper?—crackled in her hand. "Oh really? Who am I, then?"

On a deep, visceral level, he approved of the quick way she challenged him; it sparked an intoxicating rush of adrenaline, a wrenching in his gut. That slow, coiled tension in his muscles.

He ignored it all. "You're Kagome."

She blinked in surprise, hesitated, then brushed her fingertips along the wide scoop of her collar. The fine silver of her necklace arrowed downward, disappearing beneath the oversized blue drape of a pullover sweater that somehow both hugged and hid her body, caressing her curves all the way down to the tops of her thighs. "But that...might not even be my real name."

With a hard, uncomfortable swallow, InuYasha dragged his eyes from her body, up to gray eyes that seemed very dark and intent in the light-and-shadows from the fire. "And a name is what? Something someone else gives you? You still work hard. You still cook the same damn food, sleep in the same damn bed, and you still boss everyone around as if _you_ own the damn place. Who gives a fuck what name you use while you're doing it? How does what we call you change one fucking thing about you?"

Kagome stared at him, her chest heaving just a little with each breath; the uneven cadence of it made his ears twitch. "But...you just said remembering is important."

InuYasha's gaze dropped to her throat, where her blood beat frantically against the delicate skin.

_Oh, hell_.

His body went rigid, muscles straining beneath the shock of arousal. His fingers dug into the couch cushion. He felt hot, burning inside and out. Focusing on what he was saying was suddenly difficult—his words came out low and primal. "That's not what I fucking meant. _Protecting you_ is important. Letting something as stupid as a name define you is just stupid."

"Protecting me," she said again, her voice breathy and soft, and this time it sounded like a request. Her hand dropped from her chest, down to grip the cushion, so close to his own that he felt the warmth of her skin—his fingers so close to her hip that it would take only a subtle shift to have the curve of it in his palm. A soft nudge to have her sliding over the side of the couch and into his lap. Thanks to the fire, the room was warm; he could take his time peeling that sweater away from those curves, savor each tremor and moan beneath his tongue, confident that none of them would be from the cold.

His eyes narrowed at her hip. His blood thrummed thick and heavy through his veins, so charged with anticipation—with _possibilities—_he could barely think.

"Then..." She eased herself forward, slid until she just hovered on the edge of the cushion.

_Her breath on his lips. Her taste in his mouth_.

"Am I still me when I remind you of someone else?"

She was so sincere, so hot, so _close_, that it took him several long moments to put meaning to words. And then he remembered what had happened the last time they'd been alone together, the reason they'd been behaving like painful strangers for the past few days.

_Kikyou_, he'd said.

Fuck.

A chill razed him, and he shot to his feet

With a gasp, Kagome sat back into the couch. Her eyes followed him up, wide and stricken with dismay.

InuYasha took a few unsteady steps backwards, away from her, but he couldn't get away from the heat in his own body. He couldn't forget, either, that the last time he'd made her cry. Frustration crashed into his desire, knotted him up inside, curled his hands into fists at his sides. It was a dangerous feeling.

"You're you, no matter what you do." He snarled at her. No other word for it. "So quit bugging me with stupid shit and get some fucking sleep."

He didn't wait to see her reaction, just turned on his heel and made for the door.

"InuYasha, wait!"

He paused. He should have ignored her, but he caught the urgent note in her voice and checked automatically. Wary, he turned back.

She'd scrambled up from the couch after him, and that pulse caught him again, still thrumming like mad. She hesitated once more, fear a faint shadow across her face.

He scowled, but then she thrust out her chin and straightened, and that was all the prep time he got.

"Did you kill her?"

Her heart might be trying to bust out of her body, but his came to a dead stop. He felt his eyes widen, but didn't feel in control of the movement at all. "What?"

Kagome looked nervous, and her tongue came out to swipe at her top lip. His eyes followed it, so he missed the way she raised her hand and had to jerk his eyes away to focus on what she held out to him.

"Kikyou. Did you kill her?"

* * *

There _she_ was, staring out at him from a photograph of pale ink, her smile soft and secretive, as if she were still alive somewhere he'd never be able to find her. The floor fell out from under him and he was free-falling.

A/N: Okay, that's it for this chapter. I wanted to get the entire conversation that follows in this chapter, but it started edging into being too long. So, sorry for the cliffy, but I wanted to give myself the freedom to make it right. I've looked over this the best that I can, but I'm so tired that I'm sure I've missed something, so I'll have to come back and look it over again later.

I welcome all forms of communication, so don't forget to drop me a note with any questions, comments, or theories. (I do so enjoy theories. XD) You guys are the awesome for showing so much support for this story. Thank you so much.

And with that, Quill is off to bed. She is in desperate need of sleep. ^_^


	19. Flashback

%%

* * *

Chapter 18: Flashback

* * *

_There was blood everywhere. The walls were spattered with it, the carpet soaked with pools of it; his jeans were heavy and cold with the stuff_. _It was the first thing he noticed, the only thing he noticed. He was kneeling in the middle of her apartment; it was a small place, but one she'd called a sanctuary, a reprieve from those trying to use her for her powers, from those who hunted her, from the seemingly constant demand on her time from everyone around her—for help or council or support for a cause, or whatever the hell else they could think of to demand. No one was supposed to be able to find her here except him. She was supposed to be safe here_.

_The smell made him physically sick. The scent of her death, contained in such a tiny space, rose up around him, mixing with the blood. The intensity of her last moments sank into his nostrils; it saturated his senses, weakened his muscles_.

_ Her body was little more than a miss-mash of ravaged flesh and exposed bone, slashed open until everything inside spilled out, the skin slivered by youkai claws and hanging slack from cooling muscle. Her face was—he averted his gaze. Ugly red holes gaped up at him where cool brown eyes should have been; deep, jagged tears raked across what had only hours before been such beautiful features; but it was _her_ weight he held together in his arms, _her_ lustrous black hair that was somehow more on the ground than in her skull_. _It was _her_ death-blood painting her home such a black, inescapable red_.

_His stomach twisted and heaved, but he managed to keep in whatever was left of his dinner—the dinner he'd had without her, because he'd been so damn furious with her. He'd been so fucking _angry_ at her, but_...

_It was the sorrow, deep and riveting, that pinned him to the floor, holding together what was left of her; he wanted to howl with it, but he wasn't the Asshole, to have another form to make use of. So he kept it locked rigidly inside, to mix and churn with the anger and betrayal that had never truly gotten its outlet and now never would; the combination bubbled over inside of him, ever more explosive and violent_.

_It was the conviction, the certainty that this was _his_ fault that kept him there, waiting. Because _he_ was the one who'd left her alone while he went off to stew. Despite everything she'd done, _he_ was the one who'd failed to protect he__r_.

_He heard them coming. Some distant, logical part of his mind knew what would happen when they found him curled over her, eyes flickering a dangerous red, growling at them, at himself, at anyone __who dared come near her. He dismissed that part of his mind and stayed anyway, because he couldn't bear to leave her alone again_.

* * *

The fire cracked, popped, spit. Over and over again. It was the only sound in the room, soft background noise with a wave of warmth to fill the hole of silence that had opened up around their tableau.

InuYasha couldn't move; every muscle in his body had locked up tight, straining against his skin and keeping him frozen at the same time. An invisible fist had clenched down on his throat, cutting off his breath and any sound he might have wanted to make if he'd been able to think of making one. All he could do was stare at the damn picture and _remember_, a rush of torment he sure as hell didn't want to deal with.

Kagome didn't move. She just held the fucking thing out at him and waited. She seemed to be holding her breath, and he _knew_ her damn heart was still going a mile a minute, but he couldn't get himself to do anything but stare. And so she just waited.

Staring at him. Solemn, sad. He could feel the weight of her eyes—_dark, storm-filled, alive—_but he was caught by the picture of _her_.

For the longest time, they just stood together like that, unmoving, inanimate, like some pointless, moronic painting on a wall.

Then Kagome swallowed, sucked in a breath as if she couldn't hold out without air anymore, and it broke the spell.

His hand snapped out, snatched the paper from her hand. His eyes skimmed the article, but the words were all old-fucking-hat—the same bullshit it had always been, over and over, gleefully convicting him without bothering to care what had really happened. His jaw hurt from clenching so hard. "Where the hell did you get this?"

InuYasha noted, peripherally, her flinch.

"I..." She hesitated. "I got it from Miroku's computer."

"What _the fuck_ were you doing on Miroku's computer!"

Kagome winced. "I know I shouldn't have, but...everyone else already knows so much, and you're obviously... I thought I would be able to understand if I just knew _something_..."

Heat boiled up, a well-spring of rage from deep in his gut. InuYasha's eyes finally jerked away from the hateful words. Kagome met his gaze, the soft glint of guilt in her eyes, but she didn't back down. "I live here, too, you know."

InuYasha had the gut-sinking realization that he'd waited too long, spent too much time questioning and doubting and second-guessing. She'd found out on her own, knew some of the awful details without benefit of his eyes. Those half-assed bastards had had their damning say first, and now nothing he said would make a difference. The knowledge actually hurt, because he hadn't wanted Kagome to think of him that way. He just hadn't known how much until now.

_Fuck_.

"So you decided to snoop." His hand fisted around the paper, his voice a growl forced through a tight throat. "Like what you found?"

Her lips pressed together, then her tongue took a nervous swipe them. Her scent was a confusing, tangled mess: sadness, anxiety, even a tiny hint of fear that stoked the rage inside of him, made him want to rip something apart with his bare hands. "I'm...not sure what I found. I mean, the articles don't seem to—"

Holy shit, she'd said _articles._ As in plural. She'd gotten all those little damning details over and over again from more than one source. "So you did a _lot_ of snooping."

Something flickered in her eyes: anger, frustration. "I just want to know what happened. I mean, Kikyou, she was—"

Panic, ripping through his chest. "Just what the hell makes anything I did with her any of your business?"

Her hands curled into fists at her side. She opened her mouth and he expected to hear her lashing out at him. Instead, he heard a whisper, filled with disappointment. _Hurt_. "Isn't it? When Kikyou is the reason you keep leaving me like _that_?"

_That_ being flushed, half-naked, and achingly sexually frustrated?

It was his turn to wince. Damn. That knocked him right in the balls, with most of the same symptoms, even at this seriously inappropriate time. When the hell had she learned to hit him like that?

"Did you kill her?"

It was the hurt radiating off of her that got him; it latched onto his defiance and ate through it like a like a shot of poison from the Asshole's claws. He swallowed, looked down at his fist, and managed to hold out against her for one more second before—

_"No."_ The denial slipped from him with a harsh rasp, forced out by years of stored frustration and silence without any conscious effort from him. "I didn't. Of _course_ I didn't kill Kikyou." He glared at the cursed article in his fist and braced for the inevitable skepticism: the questions, the sudden unease in his presence, the _doubt_; his stomach wrapped itself into a great knot of stone and just sat there, ice-cold and heavy inside him.

He heard her move away from him, back towards the couch. "I see," she said as she sank back down onto a cushion, weariness in every line of her body. "You didn't. Good."

InuYasha looked up. "What?"

"All the articles made it seem as if you were guilty of murdering your—her. And since I wasn't there when it happened I was a little afraid they might have been right. Of all the possibilities, you being the person to kill her seemed like the worst scenario. I'm glad it wasn't you."

He gaped at her. "That's...that's it? You find out that the whole fucking world thinks I murdered Kikyou, and that's all you've got to say? _Good_?"

She blinked back at him. "Am I supposed to say something else? What's wrong with good?"

She'd seen the evidence, admitted to how bad it all looked—so what the hell was she saying to him? Or did she really not understand?

"What's wrong with—" He glared, more because he was lost than angry. "You're going to just accept what I'm saying like that? Are you fucking stupid?"

"_Stupid?"_ Kagome shot back to her feet, indignation in every line of her body. "It's _stupid_ for me to believe you? I shouldn't? You don't _want_ me to? Are you lying?"

"That... That's not what I meant." InuYasha didn't understand. She didn't make sense. A person would normally be a little cautious after hearing a denial, right? A normal person would hesitate in the face of all that evidence. Where the fuck did she get off taking him at his word when even his closest friend had doubted him in those first few hours? When the Asshole probably _still_ thought he was guilty? How could she just calmly _accept_ when everyone else had decided that he'd killed someone precious to him?

"Then what _do_ you mean?"

He scowled, shook his head. Took a few steps closer to her. "Those reporters, the police, the articles... You realize all that stuff they said about me isn't wrong, right?" The facts, the chronology had never been wrong. Only the conclusions. "That was _me_ they found with her body that night, _me_ who was one of the only people who even knew where she lived, _me_ who was covered in her blood, and," he lifted his claws, cracked his knuckles, knowing how menacing the sound could be, _"me_ with the natural weapons perfect for making the mess they found us in."

"But you didn't—"

"The reports about us having a big fight were right, too." The words tumbled from him, rough and uncensored. "And if you thought it was just some stupid fucking spat, you were wrong. Kikyou, she—Kikyou _betrayed_ me. I was angry enough with her to want her dead."

What the hell was he saying? That wasn't even true. He'd been angry, all right—he'd been _furious._ But he'd never wanted Kikyou dead. Never.

No. He'd just left her alone long enough for her to die at someone else's hands.

"Betrayed?" It was a soft gasp from parted lips. All the fight went out of her with that breath, and she turned away from him, giving him her profile while she stared at the fire. Her arms wrapped around her middle; from her scent he picked up not even the faintest hint of fear or doubt but... a trace of grief? "Is that what happened? I see."

_Whoa_. What had just happened? It kind of felt like she'd just...withdrawn from the conversation?

Leery of the sudden change in her, InuYasha dropped his scowl and eyed her. The sight of her standing there holding onto herself like that bothered him on a fundamental level, like some suicidally buzzing insect. He didn't understand what the hell it was, and he couldn't figure out what the hell he was supposed to _do_ about it, so he shoved it to the back of his brain, where it clamored and fed into his irritation. "Yeah? What the hell do you think you see?"

"She..." She swallowed, and the delicate ripple of her throat grabbed his eyes, held them to that wide expanse of skin exposed by that damn collar. "For you to be so angry with her... Kikyou must have been very important to you."

It took a moment for her hushed statement to sink in—and another half-second for it to deflate all that rising anger and leave him with nothing but the hollow ache of regret. The suddenness of it slammed him mentally sideways, left him feeling stunned for more than a few seconds.

"Kikyou was—" When he did find his voice again, his tongue felt thick, his mouth coated with grit. "She shouldn't have died."

"No." She shook her head, and her eyes lifted to his. The gentleness in the gray irises caught him by surprise. "It didn't even occur to me to think the news reports were wrong. I just...trust you more."

_I trust you more_.

It was the last thing he'd expected to hear. It was the last thing he'd _wanted_ to hear.

_Trust_.

Stupid fucking word to throw around, when she didn't even know what it meant. When the hell was it ever that simple? Not even Kikyou—

"_You don't understand."_

_"_Fuck right_ I don't understand! You know! You know about all the suffering he's caused, so __how?" His blood rushed through him, furious, sick. She could have killed him; she could have eliminated the bastard long ago. Instead... "Why! Why the fuck can you _help_ the son-of-a-bitch!"_

_ "It's nothing so simple."_

_ "The hell it's not!" The slim curves of her shoulders fit against his palms, familiar and deceptively fragile even as he shook her. "I'm telling you to stop working with the worst bastard I've ever known! What the fuck is so complicated!"_

_ Her head bobbed like a stupid toy, her hair sliding over his fingers. But all she did was shackle his wrists with her cool fingers. "It's too late. It has been for a long time now. I need to finish this." _

_ Fury bubbled inside of him, barely contained. His fingers tightened, digging hard—but her face remained impassive, as if she didn't even feel it. "The only thing you need to do is _stay away from him_! Don't you get it? He twists things. He does it to every fucking thing he touches; it's like some kind of warped game to him!"_

_ "I know what I'm doing. I know _him._ Far better than you do."_

_ "Bullshit! I won't stand by and watch this! If you won't stop it, I will."_

_ Her lashes swept down, covering the cool distance in her eyes. "Is that a threat?"_

_ "Threat?" Fire burned inside of him, reaching so deep it would leave even his heart raw and bleeding if he didn't stop it. Even his throat burned. "I can help, damn it! Whatever it is, whatever he's got keeping you tied to him, I'll cut it for you. _Let me help!_"_

_ She turned her head away from him. "No." The slim line of her jaw set. "You can't help me."_

_ It was like getting a shiv in the ribs, slicing into him clean and sharp and devastating, as she had to have known it would be. He winced, drew back; his fingers loosened their grip. "I can."_

_ "No," she said again. "You can't." Her dark brown eyes returned to him, softened. Her fingertips left cold, silky tracks against his cheek. "I told you. You don't understand what I'm doing, or why."_

_ Every time he thought about what she'd done—what she was still doing—he lost a little more patience, a little more sanity. "You'd be surprised what I _understand_, Kikyou." _

_ "You don't." Something dark and fierce flashed across her features."You _can't_."_

_ It was that look that finally convinced him, that moment when the bitter acid of acceptance seared through him. "You won't stop, will you?" He barely waited for her stoic confirmation before he pushed her away. Right there, in the middle of their private dining room, he shoved her away from him as if her skin was red-hot instead of winter-chill. _

_ And then he really lost his temper_.

—The icy knot in his gut was alive now, roiling and black.

"Tch!" InuYasha shoved his hands into his pocket and shook his head hard, trying to dislodge the dank, sour edge of memory. The balled-up paper in his right fist bit into his palm, reminding him, grounding him. "You don't," he muttered. "How can you?"

"What?" Kagome cocked her head, took a tentative step towards him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't even get what you're saying. What the hell kind of sense does it make to trust the word of a wanted murderer over so much evidence?"

"What sense does it make," she countered, anger filtering in beneath the softness of her tone, "for me to believe people I've never even met over the one person who's protected me without fail for literally as long as I can remember? What reason do I have to trust them over you?"

"_Reason._" He sneered. "I'm a fucking fugitive! A violent youkai murderer! That's reason enough for most people!"

Silence.

"Fugitive?" Kagome's voice went blank. A frown wrinkled the skin between her brows. "But you said you didn't—"

_Shit_.

There. The missing piece, the reason she wasn't making any sense. She hadn't gotten everything from the news reports. Of course she hadn't—according to Miroku, Sesshoumaru had buried that particular pile of shit so deep a bloodhound couldn't have sniffed it out, never mind a clueless amnesiac. She still didn't understand what had happened.

Might as well tell her, get it all out now. And then...

"What the hell do you think "wanted murderer" means? They fucking _arrested_ me!" More words bursting from deep inside, pushed out through a bitter throat and clenched teeth. "They charged me, they threw me in a maximum security prison, and when they convicted me, they were going to kill me. And so—what? You thought they just let me go after all that?"

Her eyes went wide, dark and shadowy in the crackling firelight. They burned into him, forced him to look away. From the corner of his eye, he caught quick movement as Kagome pressed her fingers to her mouth.

"Oh," she said. And then, with dawning understanding, "Oh."

"Yeah," he muttered. "_Oh._ You get it now?"

"I thought they didn't have enough evidence to... "

"You thought wrong."

"Oh," she said again in a small voice. "There wasn't anything that said... They really put you in prison?"

"Officially, it was just detention while we waited for trial. But it was prison. A special one, just for youkai." He barely suppressed another sneer. The country only had one prison capable of containing dangerous youkai—and the term "prison" wasn't nearly as accurate as the term "hell" would have been. Hard-asses everywhere, every one of them looking for a bitch, a meal, or both. Small comfort, then, that the reason they'd busted out was because he probably wouldn't have made it through the trial to face whatever form of execution they cooked up for a hanyou anyway.

"And they didn't let you go."

"Hell, no."

Kagome fell silent again, and InuYasha's stomach did a sickening dead-drop. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend it didn't matter.

"Then, I don't understand. Why are you here?"

InuYasha's eyes popped back open. "What?"

Those fine wrinkles were back between her brows. "Even if there was some reason that forced you to break out, even if you felt you had to hide, why come to a place so far away? You... I can't imagine you being okay with letting the real murderer get away." Curiosity in her voice, in her eyes—but still no accusation. No whiff of condemnation. Not even a stabbing hint of doubt.

InuYasha stared at her, his throat locked in a ghost-cold grip.

Kagome started to fidget. Warm color flushed high in her cheekbones, and her fingers curled into the soft material of that blue top, stretching it tight around her hips. "I mean, Kikyou was..." She looked away, her eyes flitting over to the fire; her voice dropped a few decibels. "She was important to you, and someone did something awful to her. Even if she betrayed you, I think you would still fight for..."

This time when his feet moved, he didn't bother to stop them. Slow and deliberate, he took the few steps across the room towards her, his slippers near-silent on the wood. Her voice trailed off as he neared, but she didn't back away, not even when he stopped less than an arm's length away. Her eyes held his, unwavering and open and...

_Warm_.

A tiny ember of warmth, deep within the cold blackness inside him.

"I didn't want to," he spoke through the tightness, hands still securely in his pockets. "They gave me Kaede and Shippou and told us to stay here, because it was goddamn _safe_. And I—"

"_The kitsune needs protection. He's the only witness. As long as those fools are free, they'll do anything to make sure he never testifies."_

_ "Fuck that! I'm not the only one who can—"_

_ "Returning is a fool's move. This is the best option for you. For the old miko as well. Without that woman to provide for her, her life is as threatened as yours. Will you leave her without protection?"_

_ "The son-of-a-bitch who murdered Kikyou is still out there! How can I—"_

_ "Then you'll abandon the human who threw away his freedom to save you as well? Miroku is as wanted as you are now_."

"—I _accepted_ _it_. Instead of going back and finding out what the hell happened, instead of hunting down the bastard who killed her, I stayed like they told me to_._" It was the worst thing he could admit to her. It was every nightmare disturbing his sleep for the past five years, every lonely night run in the woods, every miserable, head-ducking trip into Sounkyo, every time he'd sat on the roof and listened to the bursts of laughter as Miroku and Shippou entertained the guests. It was the dead, painful silence from that corner of his room he almost never glanced at.

Everything he'd been slowly forgetting since almost the moment Kagome had shown up.

Whatever she'd done, Kikyou had deserved better from him than letting the bastard who had literally ripped her to pieces just walk away. He'd _owed_ her better.

"They needed you. Shippou and Kaede. Even Miroku, I think." Kagome's voice, somehow both gentle and insistent, pulling him back. "Even if I don't know all the details, I can still see that. You chose to protect the living instead of avenging the dead. That can't have been an easy choice."

More warmth, loosening his throat and that internal knot driving him crazy. Eyes narrow, he drew a deep breath and took another step in, noted the quick hitch in her breathing. And there went that pulse again.

He pulled a hand from his pocket—the hand holding the crumpled remains of the article. "You," he said, holding it up between them. "You said you were worried. What were you gonna do if I said I killed her?"

He was watching her eyes, saw the flare of dismay and the way her lashes fluttered at his question, but she _still_ didn't back away from him. She reached out and folded her fingers over his—claws and all. It felt as if she were crying for him, even though he couldn't see any moisture in her eyes or scent anything salty or damp in the air. Instead, he saw understanding and a deep, confident faith in him. It damn near stopped his heart, because he had no idea where it came from.

"I wouldn't have done anything," she said, softly, simply. "Because even though I don't know the circumstances, I think only something terrible could have gotten you to hurt someone you cared about so much."

His gaze dropped to their hands, clasped tight in the gap between their bodies, a stupidly thrilling bit of skin-to-skin contact. Her hand was smaller than his; the heel of her palm barely covered his knuckles, and her soft fingertips barely lay against the smoothest part of his claws; but that tiny bit of her had heat soaking into him, easing the frozen tension in his body, seeping deep into his bones. Even the damn paper in his hand, balled-up and harmless in his palm, felt warm from her touch.

Stupid fucking thing. Causing so much trouble. And now it was pointless to even resent the stupidity of it, because she really believed him despite everything, and she really wasn't going to hold anything against him, and—goddamn it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this kind of warmth.

InuYasha unclenched his fist, pushed the abused paper into the loose cage of her fingers. "Fine." He pulled his hand away; her fingers automatically closed around it, keeping it from plunging to the space of floor between their feet. "You want to know?"

Uncertainty flashed across her face. It was brief as blink, and then it was gone, her fist hanging suspended between them before she tucked it against her body and up went that chin. "Yes. Will you tell me?"

No one had ever asked him—just _asked_ him—for the whole story. They'd accused, demanded, guessed, judged, and flat-out assumed, but they'd never asked. Not the police. Not the media. Not the Asshole. Not even Miroku.

Kaede had never even mentioned the circumstances surrounding her sister's death.

Kagome was the only one who'd ever just...asked.

"We were chasing a serial killer."

* * *

Kagome blinked down at InuYasha, who had sunk to the ground and now sat cross-legged with his back to the couch, staring into the fire. "I... What?"

_Serial killer? We were talking about Kikyou...weren't we_?

His eyes slid back up to her, then he jerked his head towards the couch, indicating she sit. "You wanted to know what happened, so I'm telling you."

Stunned into momentary speechlessness, Kagome felt her body moving, felt the softness of the cushions as she perched on the edge and rested her hands in her lap. She found herself staring down at the silky, silver-white texture of his ears and suffering from mental whiplash. "What?" she said again.

"That's what we were doing with that stupid sports shop. It was in the same area where youkai had been turning up all shriveled and dead. We needed a good excuse to be there all the time while we looked for the bastard."

"But..." Kagome struggled for a moment to find words that made sense, and grabbed onto the first one that did. "We?"

"Me and Miroku. It was our job to find the son-of-a-bitch who was dumping dried-out youkai bodies in all these random back streets." He paused, snorted. "Well, they were all bad-ass bastards with reputations for causing trouble with humans, but some of the stinking rich youkai crowd of the city were scared shitless, which is why they asked us to intervene."

Kagome nodded as if it made sense, then shook her head. "But...isn't that what police are for?"

InuYasha angled a glance back at her, one black brow honed with a skeptical arch. "This serial killer targets youkai only. The police have a special unit to deal with youkai crimes, but they don't usually get involved unless humans are involved somehow, so the investigator they sent didn't really do a lot of investigating."

More blinking. "Why wouldn't they? Isn't it their job to catch criminals, no matter who they are?"

She got a frowning sidelong glance. "The police generally stay away from anything that smells of youkai territorial dispute, and the youkai tend to prefer they do it that way."

Kagome drew her brows together, feeling as if she were missing something huge and obvious. "Territorial disputes?"

Another long, considering side-glance, then he turned to face her with a sigh. "Listen, here's the way most people think things work: a long time ago, youkai stopped trying to eat, kill, and dominate humans and started living them outright, and now youkai and humans all live together, work the same jobs, everyone following the same rules, right?"

Kagome hesitated, her brows pulling together. "No?"

InuYasha snorted. "As if youkai were ever completely domesticated to the human way. Daiyoukai controlled their own lands before humans controlled anything, and they didn't stop just because humans started multiplying like fucking rabbits and building cities. Youkai _look_ like they live and work under human laws, but ultimately most of 'em are living under some powerful youkai or youkai clan, and they all know it. To them, the lord of the territory is still the ultimate authority, and when violence happens between youkai, it's usually either a territorial dispute or something for the youkai in charge to handle."

"And the police are okay with this?"

A shrug. "Doesn't matter if they are or not. Youkai use their resources as they see fit anyway, and they always have; some care about the youkai in their protection, some don't give a rat's ass, some actively abuse them. Most of them are rich, and a lot of them are busy getting more of it, so they don't really give a shit about the day-to-day outside their own operations. Those kind only get involved when the problem could be seen as a challenge to their authority and leave 'em open to some kind of coup from another group who wants what they've got. Either way, they act independently of the police, and the youkai population in general are more afraid of the territory heads than human laws."

"You make them sound like yakuza."

"Keh." A disdainful flick of his fingers. "Yakuza are different. As long as they stay out of our way, we just let the humans deal with them."

Kagome folded her hands around each other. "And by 'we' you mean...?"

InuYasha's ears twitched and he looked down. When he looked up, his gaze was serious, almost arrogant. "My father held Tokyo and a lot of area surrounding it for centuries before he died."

She sucked in a soft breath. Oh, wow. How powerful had his father been to hold such a huge area for so long a time? And if she wasn't mistaken, was that just the tiniest hint of pride in his voice when he said it? "And... after he died?"

"The Asshole ran things. He's strong, but a little young by daiyoukai standards, so we've had to deal with a few challenges to the territory since he took over." His lip curled. "One bastard in particular has been picking away at our territory for a while now."

_We. Our_.

He kept using those words, as if he were just as involved, just as responsible. InuYasha had said he and his brother had never really gotten along well, and always acted like he hated him—but how genuine could that hate really be if they'd had to work together for any amount of time to maintain a legacy their father had left them? And what had it meant to him, then, to be forced into exile—no matter how good the reason—by the brother he'd fought beside and supported for so long?

Kagome bit her lip. "So when this serial killer appeared, it looked like another challenge to...your brother's authority?"

InuYasha scowled. "Not really. This killer is pretty well known already; he's been around for decades now. Likes to drop a bunch of beef-jerky bodies in a place for a while, then move on. Never touches a human and sticks mostly to bullies and thugs, so it's usually just whispered about in youkai communities. Our problem was more politics. Since some of the more powerful youkai in the city had petitioned the lord for help, the Asshole would look weak if he didn't take care of it—and that might've given _that bastard_ the support he's been looking for."

She assumed _that bastard_ was the particular youkai who had been challenging them on territory. "What does any of this have to do with...Kikyou?"

He blinked hard at the name, just another of the myriad of little details telling her how important Kikyou had been to him, and his expression turned somber. He put his back to the couch again, rested his elbows on his raised knees. "Kikyou... She was already there, in that neighborhood. She did that a lot, moved around from community to community and helped out for a while. She lived close to the shop and like the coffee place across the street, so we ended up seeing each other a lot. Not real friendly or anything but...coffee. We had coffee sometimes."

He fell quiet for a moment, his eyes locked on the fire. Kagome could almost see the memories dancing around in the flickering light.

"I caught her one night, fighting a youkai thug in a back alley. He was freaky-looking and probably one of that bastard's guys, so I'd have taken him out on principle anyway, but she looked like she needed help." Another agitated twitch of his ears. "She didn't, but we fought well together. Then she told me she knew who we were, and why we were there. She said we were working towards the same goal and that maybe we could work together."

Her chest felt painfully tight. Kagome dropped her gaze down to the white-edged tension in her hands. She swallowed and managed to keep her voice reasonably disinterested. "And that's when you..."

"Yeah. That's when we."

He stopped talking again and Kagome couldn't bring herself to prod him. The silence, for all the subject matter, was surprisingly comfortable. He seemed absorbed in his thoughts, so she sat and waited patiently.

"It was almost a year before I found out she was working with Naraku."

_Naraku_.

"N...Naraku?" The name whispered into Kagome's brain and seemed to stick with a dull, painful echo. For a second, she felt an odd tightness around her torso, as if someone had reached a tentacle inside her and was winding and squeezing around her lungs. Her heart stuttered, then started pounding, beating at her chest, in her head.

_Tentacle_?

_Repulsive, hideous, strong_.

Automatically, her hand went to her throat, as if she could ward the sensation off. The pain in her head made her feel hazy and confused.

_Wait..why_...

She put her other hand to her forehead, and hit herself with the balled-up article. Surprised, Kagome dropped her hand and stared at it; the paper sat harmless and solid in the palm of her hand. Desperate for calm, she drew in a deep breath and tried to focus. "Who is...Naraku?"

"Naraku!" InuYasha spat the word, a bitter sneer in his voice. "That son-of-a-bitch has been after the Tokyo territory since before my old man died, and we're pretty damn sure he had something to do with his death. Kikyou was working with the bastard from the beginning, and I didn't even know."

"She was working with the person who killed your father?" Something cold and horrified washed through her, clearing her thoughts. Her head snapped up, and she stared at him, stricken. "Did she know?"

"She knew," he snarled, rough and low. "I told her. She knew, and she was working with him anyway. That's what we were fighting about that night." His mouth twisted. "She didn't even tell me herself. I had to hear it from a former business associate of Naraku's—that for a while, he'd been quietly suggesting to the higher youkai in the city that she was his spiritual muscle." He let out a "tsk", his frustration palpable. "Naraku's a rotten, twisted psychopath. He plays with people like they're his own personal toys—and then he rips them apart. Letting him get total control over anyone or anything would be disaster. I doesn't make any sense that she'd help him."

Kagome felt as if all the warmth had been sucked from her body. Without realizing she was doing it, she slowly let her body slide from the couch until she was sitting next to him on the floor, close enough to feel his body heat.

_ Betrayal_, he'd said.

Her arms wrapped around her stomach. "Wh-what happened?"

He didn't look away from the fire. "The night I found out, we were supposed to meet up at this fancy private restaurant. I confronted her as soon as I saw her, and she _fucking admitted it_. Said she was just using him and his money to help people.

"When I asked her to stop, she refused, said she couldn't—and I couldn't accept that. It was the first real argument we ever had. Everyone in the restaurant must have heard it. I was so fucking _mad_, I—" A muscles jumped in his jaw, and she realized he was speaking through gritted teeth. "And then I left her there. Alone. And when I went to see her at her apartment later that night, I found her already... It was a big fucking mess. Lots of blood, and the smell was—" His voice roughened and he stopped for a few heavy seconds. "Some scents are deep. They're stronger than others, get under the skin and stick. Blood is one of them. So is death. That place reeked with both of 'em...and by the time the cops found me, so did I."

InuYasha glared at his hands. Opened them. Closed them. Opened them. Closed them—tight. Rested his forehead against his fists. "I was supposed to be with her," he said, quietly. "It was only a few hours. I should have gone sooner."

It was hard, seeing the guilt literally weighing him down. Kagome didn't know what to do, how to make it weigh less. A shiver shook her frame and she instinctively leaned her head against his shoulder. His jacket was cool on the surface but his body heat seeped through quickly, warming her cheek; the material smelled of some combination of cold snow, wilderness, and InuYasha. It was a teasing scent, an appealing one.

She felt a startle go through him at the contact, and his head turned to look down at her, but she kept her gaze on the floor. It took another moment, but the shoulder beneath her cheek lost its tension.

A little of the cold went out of her. But the deep heaviness, the damp, somber weight that had been dragging her down since the moment she'd seen the picture of Kikyou, remained. Kagome swallowed. "Do you know who really killed her?"

He drew a deep breath, sighed, and dropped his hands back between his knees. "Kikyou was strong and smart; bringing her to a fight always gave you damn good odds at surviving it. Killing her isn't something that just anyone could do." He shook his head. "At first I was convinced it was Naraku. But even if the bastard's homicidal, it's not like he's stupid. Why do that to her when her lending him her reputation was giving him an edge over us? And he wasn't even the most likely person to want her dead. Kikyou played by her own rules. Even some humans had reason to hate her. But how many of them could have found her and were strong enough to take her out like that?" He dropped his head back, eyes closed. "Hell if I know."

And that, Kagome knew, was the biggest problem. He didn't know, just like she hadn't known about InuYasha. So much of what had really happened in the events surrounding her death remained a mystery. InuYasha hadn't just been robbed of his life, he'd been cheated out of answers from the only person who could provide them, _and_ the opportunity to find the one responsible and avenge her.

Of _course_ it haunted him. Of _course_ he couldn't move on from it, or her.

No wonder seeing Kagome, who had the same face, was confusing, maybe even agonizing.

And of course he couldn't keep his hands off her. She looked exactly like his dead lover.

So many painful realizations, each a vicious, devastating lash. Well, she'd known they might be. After all, who could compete with a memory? What living person could ever compare to such an unresolved tragedy?

Kagome swallowed around the aching knot in her throat and lifted her head from his shoulder. "InuYasha..." She had no one else, nowhere else, her whole world was Sachi, and she didn't want to, but— "Would it be better if I left?"

"_What_!"InuYasha's head jerked up, and the look of outrage he gave her made her feel as if she'd slapped him. "Why would—where the hell did that come from?"

She hugged her arms a little higher around her torso, trying to dispel the chill deep in her bones. "I look like her."

He blinked at her. "What the hell? Not you, too. Damn it!" A growl rumbled from his throat, and his glare turned accusatory. "Do you have somewhere else to go?"

She was taken aback, by both his attitude and the question. "Not...really."

"Do you know anyone who could help you?"

"No."

"Do you _want_ to leave?"

"No!" The answer burst from her, her whole body flinching back from the idea.

His body relaxed, just a bit. His eyes, intent and almost gilt in the firelight, locked with hers for an expectant moment. "And you trust me, right?"

It felt as if all the breath went out of her, as if he'd stolen it away. "Yes."

It was so quick she almost missed it—his face lost every bit of its tension, and a tiny smirk quirked the edges of his mouth."Then quit talking like you don't." He settled back against the couch, arms crossed, an air of stubborn finality radiating from every line in his body. "Besides, leaving would be stupid. You belong here."

_You belong here_.

It was the exact opposite of a lash. Her heart went back to pounding; she resisted it. "But...doesn't—isn't it hard seeing me every day? Don't I remind you of...her? Wouldn't it be easier for you if I wasn't—"

"You've been talking to Miroku, haven't you?"  
"What?"

"Never mind." He rolled his eyes. "Fine, I got it. At first, yeah, it was a little like seeing a ghost walking around the place. But you're Kagome; you're different from the way Kikyou was. To remind me of her, you'd have to be like her. You're not. Kagome is Kagome; Kikyou was Kikyou. That's all there is to it."

_You belong here_.

"But," she said, voice soft. "You kissed me."

"So? I _wanted_ to kiss you! And we did a hell of a lot more than k—" InuYasha broke off abruptly, tried to swallow back his words, then winced when he realized he couldn't.

Kagome was so surprised, all she could do was stare, lips parted, cheeks hot.

His gaze darted around the room, then settled back on her with a narrowed intensity that told her he was remembering the "hell of a lot more", too. After a moment, he sighed and scratched at his head in an uncomfortable gesture, mumbling. "What does that have to do with Kikyou?"

"I...look like her."

"Uh-huh. You keep saying that." He scowled. "Like I said: you look like you; she looked like her." He shrugged, another sign of discomfort, then proved he knew exactly what she was asking. "When I...kissed you, I was kissing Kagome, not Kikyou. She wasn't—" He broke off again and looked down at his hands. Kagome could see the tension in his neck, the set of his jaw. "She wasn't even in my mind. She wasn't there at all. And when she was, that's when it stopped." Another pause, and another almost inaudible mumble. "I don't like her being there when I kiss you."

Kagome was watching him so closely she could see what it cost him to say that out loud. As she sat beside him, a scant few inches between them, it really sank in.

_You belong here_.

"Oh," she breathed, and it felt like all her strength seeped away with the sound. All the pain and tightness and anxiety of the past twenty-four hours fell away, and suddenly she was exhausted. Somewhere deep inside, she trembled with it.

She let her head drop back onto his shoulder, and this time he didn't even flinch. They sat there, quiet. The fire crackled, the sound gentler than it had been before, soothing. For the first time since she'd seen the picture on that article, Kagome felt sleep calling.

"I was so worried," she whispered, "that I was nothing but her."

"That's because you're stupid." His scowl was back; she heard it in his voice, but it sounded like a half-hearted shadow of what it usually was. "Haven't you been listening? You're not nothing, and you're not her."

A smile curved her lips. "Mmm." But her eyes were already weighed down by lead, and within moments, she was asleep. The crinkled, balled-up remnant of the article that had started the whole thing rolled from between her fingers and hit the floor.

* * *

InuYasha didn't need as much sleep as normal humans, but he did need some, and he hadn't been sleeping well for several days. Now, with Kagome's soft, steady breathing in his ear and a warm feeling lodged deep in his chest, he felt tired. Relieved that the misery of the past few days finally felt over, and inexplicably light and content, but hella tired. He couldn't blame her for falling asleep on him when he was almost there himself.

He picked up the article and uncrumpled it. Stared at Kikyou's picture. Ran a finger over it. Then he folded it up, set it aside, and rested his cheek against Kagome's hair. His eyes closed.

Just for a minute.

* * *

"_Most people think the spiritually talented exist to help both human and youkai alike, to foster peace and safety." _

_ They sat at a well, taking a short break. Sensei was old and strange, someone for whom she had great respect. And more than a little fear._

_ She looked up from her small fingers trailing in the water. "Don't they?"_

_ "Hundreds of years ago, perhaps, they would have been right. But now... Youkai control too much. They've had centuries to acquire wealth and power, and because of their natures, they use them without conscience." Sensei's fingers also trailed through the water, too, and the ripples from their individual fingers blended into one another, marring the reflection of the tree overhead. "Control. Destruction. Profit. What was once a serious struggle has become a game. We are but pieces to them."_

_ "Pieces?"_

_ "Humans have ceded the power they once held to stand against powerful youkai and become pawns in the youkai power game. Who allies with whom, who makes the most money, who has the most influence. We have become pieces for gameplay. Some pieces are more powerful than others, some don't even know they are playing, but we are all pieces."_

_ "That's not fair. Can't we just not play?"_

_ She wasn't sure, but she thought Sensei was pleased by the question. "Playing is life. But some of us find ways to take the game back for ourselves."  
"Not me. I just won't play."_

_ "Foolish child. You are..." Sensei lifted a frail arm, ran a wet finger down her cheek, then cupped her chin and grasped at her face with long, chill, spidery digits. The regard was calculating, almost regretful, and it made her shiver, but not from the cold. "A pawn. One who will someday be promoted to a higher piece, because that is your fate."_

_ "You sound like you're warning me, Sensei." A whisper._

_ The fingers dug into her skin, then seemed to lengthen, stretching, creeping around her face until sharp nails dug into the back of her head. They squeezed. "I am, girl. You are powerful and pure. Youkai will try to use you and defile you."_

_ She winced at the piercing pain, the pressure making it hard to breathe. "But you said...I'm a pawn."_

_ Unfathomable eyes. Nails, knife-like, slicing into her. "You are. A special pawn. The only question is: whose piece will you be?"_

_ Her head, splitting open, and cold fingers crawling into her mind._

* * *

Kagome woke gasping, choking, hands clutching at her head to hold it together as she bolted straight up out of her sleep. Horror—pure, mean terror—slammed her heart against her chest, spurring it on in a headlong rush. Stunned by the rudeness of it, she sucked at the air with lungs that felt constricted and dry and clenched her teeth to hold in the scream that fought for equal space in her throat. Her stomach heaved, and she fought against that, too.

_My head_, she thought. _My head_!

Driven by pure panic, she opened her eyes—and reality slammed into her with the soft _whump_ of a pillow to the face. For a split-second of pure disorientation, she had no idea where she was.

_Sachi_, her mind whispered. _Safe_.

She was on the couch, warm and tucked beneath a blanket that—from its wood-musty smell—had recently been pulled from the nearest supply closet. Her body was sunken comfortably into the cushions beneath her, and the fireplace in her direct line of sight revealed that the fire had burned out some time ago. No faceless mysterious figure. No discomforting, unfamiliar location. No repulsive _thing_ squirming around in her brain.

Relief made her body limp; the adrenaline that had shot her upright crashed hard; suddenly she couldn't remember exactly what it was she was afraid of, only knew the horrified knots in her stomach and a few vague, confusing details. Feeling ill, Kagome let her hands fall onto the folds of the blanket in her lap, and stared down at her shaking palms, willing her heart and body to be calm.

The blanket was warm against her legs, comforting against her body, holding heat in against her trembling muscles. Instinctively, she clutched at it, her white-knuckle fingers curling into soft cloth, wondering where it had come from. She was sure it hadn't been out the night before.

_Oh_. Her fingers relaxed their grip. A tiny smile tugged at her lips. _Of course_.

She glanced around the deserted room, feeling a little silly to be so frightened by something she couldn't even remember. It was probably only natural, especially after everything InuYasha had told her. Murder and smells and humans as weapons in quiet wars between powerful youkai—all the kind of real life horror that gave nightmares an extra punch. Her smile faded. She bit her lip and ran absent fingertips over the faded scar in her hairline, a deep unease still churning her gut. Was it any wonder her dreams had scared her after all that?

Her eyes settled on the windows from which the light illuminating the room streamed; it was golden and soft and warm. She frowned. A little too warm, in fact, to be early morning light.

Realization dawned slowly. With a sharp inhale, she forgot all about worrying over a dream. "Oh no. _Breakfast_." She scrambled off the couch, plucking the blanket up with her and throwing it in quick folds over her arm as she darted out of the room, past the deserted reception desk, and towards the kitchen.

Why hadn't anyone woken her? Had Kaede had to handle cooking and serving all by herself? They'd had new guests arrive the night before, and Tanka-san wasn't scheduled to leave until sometime during the late morning hours, so he'd still needed his morning tray. They had a thorough cleaning to do upstairs today, too, since they were expecting even more guests sometime in the evening, and how late in the day was it, anyway, since she had to—

"Oof!"

She rounded a corner at a near run and collided head-on with another body in the hallway. Her face mashed into a masculine chest, and she heard a discomfited grunt right before strong arms clamped around her, keeping her from careening backwards from the force of the impact.

"Kagome?"

Kagome blinked against the shirt. "Miroku?" Her voice was muffled.

"Ah. Is the Sachi's very own resident Sleeping Beauty finally awake?"

Uh-oh. His hands were on her back, and she could feel them inching downwards. Without thinking about it, Kagome rammed the think mass of blanket into his stomach. He grunted again, and she neatly stepped back out of his embrace.

With a soft huff of her own, she crossed her arms and glared at him. "You should fix that bad habit of yours."

A rueful glance at the blanket now bundled in his arms. "You're not the first person to tell me that. It's this cursed hand. It hasn't found a place to settle yet." He wiggled the fingers of his damaged hand, then looked back at her, eyes appraising. "You seem remarkably...comfortable this afternoon, Sleeping Beauty."

"Comfortable? What does..." Her eyes rounded. "Did you say _afternoon_?"

"Lunch was about, oh, an hour ago, so...yes. Afternoon."

Kagome groaned. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

Miroku's eyebrows shot up, amusement dancing across face. "And risk our great leader's snarly wrath? He gave everyone strict instructions not to wake you. He was very adamant about it—claimed you were exhausted." He sighed and shook his head. "Imagine, after hearing that, my disappointment to find you sleeping all tidy and unmolested in plain view of the whole place. Next time, try to fall asleep in InuYasha's room, if you can? My fancies require a little more fodder for proper flights."

Kagome brushed off the innuendo with a shake of her head. "What about breakfast?"

"We managed. InuYasha woke Kaede and Shippou early this morning to get breakfast ready. He even helped."

"_InuYasha_ did?"

"Oh yes, he did. Seeing InuYasha serve the Nozaki couple in the dining room this morning was worth all the extra work your sleeping in cost us. A reward in and of itself."

Some part of her was amused right along with Miroku and his delighted grin, but another part was dismayed at her dereliction. It was part of her job to make breakfast to take some of the burden off the rest of them. That was, after all, one of the reasons she was staying in the first place. "I shouldn't have slept so long."

Miroku waved away her apology. "It's fine, it's fine. It gave us a chance to appreciate your contribution to the Sachi. Besides, even housekeepers deserve a morning off every once in a while." He paused and looked her over again, keen interest glinting in his gaze. "Especially when the housekeeper has been under so much stress."

"Stress?"

He shifted to lean his shoulder against the wall, tucking the blanket a little more securely under one arm. "Well, there were two attacks in two days, one of which almost killed you and one of which should have been prevented in the first place."

Kagome stared at him.

"Then there was the finding out you have spiritual powers you didn't know about, and the fact that it obviously made the rest of us uneasy, which in turn made things uncomfortable for you."

She had no answer to that, so she didn't even try.

"Then, of course, as has undoubtedly happened by now, there's the realization that the people you have been staying with all this time are all fugitives of some sort—though to be fair, we're not all _criminal_ fugitives." His smile returned faintly, though she saw nothing amused in his violet eyes. "Though I imagine the biggest blow for you was finding out about Kikyou, especially after seeing her picture."

Kagome gaped at him for a moment, then had the grace to lower her eyes. "InuYasha told you?"

"Not in so many words, but his behavior has been a bit peculiar today. I think the better question is, given my personal computer's search history, what did InuYasha tell you last night?"

"Your computer..." Kagome blinked, then realized the article hadn't been anywhere in sight when she woke. But of course, InuYasha wouldn't leave something like that lying around, would he? She bit her lip, shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have been snooping."

Miroku sighed. "Well, we probably did keep that secret from you a little longer than necessary. I would have done the same as you, except I wouldn't have waited so long to do it. But you do realize why we did it, don't you? It's a very important secret. If any of us were to ever slip around a guest—"

"InuYasha could go back to jail," Kagome said. "I know."

"Jail is one of the better cases, yes."

She paused, frowned, tilted her head. "One of the better cases?"

"Well, ideally we would have time to disappear again before they found us, but..." His eyes narrowed at her. "He didn't tell you why we had to break him out of prison in the first place?"

"Going through a trial and facing the death penalty for a murder you didn't commit isn't enough of a reason?"

He didn't look as if he'd expected her answer. He studied her for a minute, then that quirked, rueful grin reappeared. "It might have been for most people, but InuYasha insisted he should stay and fight the charge for his own name's sake. He was really stupidly stubborn about it. No, the reason we finally got him out of there was because of Naraku."

There was that discomfited twinge again; her stomach went sour. Kagome clasped her fingers together. "What did Naraku do?"

"Naraku took great pleasure in acting the wounded youkai lord. He decided to take revenge on behalf of his favorite miko and offered an obscene reward to the inmate who managed to kill InuYasha before he went to trial. There had already been more than one attempt on his life by the time we got him out, and this was not the kind of place where guards would go out of their way to interfere with a prisoner spat." A shadow crossed his face, the ghost of an unpleasant memory. "When I found him in that prison, he was severely wounded. I doubt he would have survived another attack."

"Oh," she breathed. "He didn't tell me that."

"No, I didn't think he would have."

Then, the prison had become a literal death trap for him. "And so, the worst-case scenario is..."

"Naraku or one of his many assassin underlings find us before we figure out we've been compromised, and we all die."

So it wasn't just the police who were looking for InuYasha. Naraku was still actively trying to hunt him down and kill him. What had he said last night? He'd been told to stay here because it was _safe—_and all it could take was a simple misstatement to ruin that safety. Kagome would never forgive herself if she were the cause of such a thing. "I understand. I won't slip." She startled, then looked around the deserted hallway. She edged a little closer, lowered her voice. "Um... Should we even be talking about this here?"

Miroku's grin returned and he pushed away from the wall. "No need to worry. The Nozaki couple have gone into Sonkyou for the day, and Tanaka-san left this morning." He pulled the roll of cloth from under his arms and held it out to her. "As I'm sure you've noticed, the circumstances that brought us here isn't a subject that comes up often. Just remember not to say anything in front of the guests, and everything will be fine. Shall I escort you to the kitchen? I'm certain there are leftovers from lunch."

Kagome took the blanket, but shook her head. "I should find Kaede first and apologize."

Miroku's brows wrinkled. "I believe she's upstairs, tidying up the guest rooms for this evening. But you know, apologies aren't really necessary. It's only natural for the rest of us to pick up the slack when one of us is feeling unwell."

Kagome couldn't help the smile that bloomed across her face. "I know. But I'd like to apologize anyway and see if she needs help first. Then maybe..."

As she was talking, Miroku's gaze shifted, focusing somewhere at a distance over her shoulder. The shift was brief, then his attention was back on her. He smiled. It was his pleasant smile, the one he reserved for guests he thought would be susceptible to extra little charges during their stay.

Kagome frowned. Suspicious and wary of that smile, she took a small step back and realized she'd somehow gotten her back turned to the wall. Still smiling, Miroku took another tiny step forward and bent his head a little closer.

"Kagome," he said, voice quiet. "I've just been reminded of a something Tanaka-san asked me to give you this morning, before he left."

"Tanaka-san?"

A nod. "He was very disappointed that you weren't awake to see him off, but he wanted me to convey his thanks for a pleasant stay."

Kagome blinked at him, then relaxed. "Oh, well, if that's—"

"Oi! Miroku, what the hell are you doing?"

Miroku's grin turned downright wicked. Kagome's head jerked around to see InuYasha at the far end of the hallway, a bucket hanging from clenched fingers, annoyance on his face. Her heart started pounding.

"Also—"

Kagome's attention pulled reluctantly back to Miroku, whose voice sounded just above her ear—just in time to feel his hand on the back of her head and gentle lips brushing over her forehead in a gesture filled with affection.

"A kiss, for the Sachi's Sleeping Beauty."

Blanket clutched to her chest, Kagome stared at him in shock. From farther away, the clatter of a bucket hitting the ground and the splash of water spilling across the floor.

"Hey! You bastard!"

Still grinning, Miroku stepped away and nodded to her. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do." And, moving as fast as she'd ever seen him, he disappeared down the hall, away from the charging hanyou, and into the nearest doorway—the dining room.

He must have disappeared just as quickly out the other side, because InuYasha stopped, swearing, in the doorway. After a moment, he turned back to her, agitation written into every line in his body. "What the fuck was he doing? You okay?"

Her heart jumped back into her throat. Last night had cleared up some things, but not others. He'd made it clear that he wanted her to stay. He made it clear that he didn't see her as Kikyou. What he hadn't made clear was how he _did_ see her, and how that would affect their relationship from now on.

But this morning, she saw something new in his eyes. A deep, tentative intimacy, lurking somewhere in the yellow-gold that studied her. It was gentle, and different, and completely clear of suspicion. And she was so aware of them standing together, alone in the hallway.

Slowly, she nodded. "I'm fine. It was just a joke."

More annoyance flashed over his face. "That perverted bastard." He walked a few steps, crossing the hallway, bringing himself just beyond touching distance. "You shouldn't let him get so close."

"He only does things like that because he knows he gets to you."

"Keh!" His eyes pulled away from hers, dropped to the blanket in her hands. "Did you sleep well?" He asked, voice gruff.

Kagome smiled. And took a tiny step forward—just within touching distance. "Yes. Thank you. But you didn't have to let me sleep so long."

A vague frown tensed his brows. His hand lifted, and his fingers sift through a few strands of her hair. "You needed it."

The sharp tips of his claws just barely grazed over the sensitive skin where a bullet had torn though her skin. She felt it travel, like an electric current, all over her body. She sucked in a breath and wet her lips, feeling delicate and light-headed all over.

He blinked. Then his eyes narrowed. From the corner of her eye, she saw his hand clench.

Kagome saw the conflict in his face...and for the first time, decided she didn't care.

Following every instinct and impulse she had, she stepped forward again, until it seemed that the blanket in her arms was the only thing between them. She turned her face up and looked him straight in the eye. "Thank you for the blanket."

His hand was on her face now, hot palm-to-cheek contact—rough, calloused skin against soft skin. She saw his lip curl and teeth flash, a glimpse of aggression that churned her gut into knots, right before he bent his head.

The blanket slipped to the floor.

His mouth was hot. His tongue was hot. His body was hot. And, thanks to him, now Kagome was hot, too. Her fingers curled into his shirt, and she sank into a world of sensations, where everything was suddenly urgent and intense. His teeth nipped at the soft, wet skin of her mouth, his taste was inside of her. One of his hands was gripping at her neck while the other was digging into her waist—both of them holding her in place. And she was kissing him back with just as much urgency, just as much aggression.

It felt right, and long overdue, as if this were the one thing they'd been neglecting to do all this time.

She didn't even realize he was crowding her until her back hit the wall; she gasped, and he slammed a hand into the wall to steady them. He pulled back just a fraction, and seemed to hesitate, his lips hovering just against hers. Their breathing was a harsh mirror between them, clashing and mingling together in the pause.

Kagome read the indecision in his eyes, the pressing lust versus a mysterious reluctance. She shook her head, a tiny, frustrated movement, tugged at him with her curled fingers, and stood on tiptoe to press her body against his. "You can't keep doing this," she whispered into his mouth.

His fingers flexed on her hip. "I know," he gave the whisper back to her, mouth clinging, his voice still torn while his body screamed possession.

Something, some intuitive feminine part of her, told Kagome she'd won.

A high-pitched, childish squeal cut through the hallway, and a small body skidded into the hallway, sliding across the water-soaked wood to slam with a thud into the wall.

With a gasp, Kagome found herself pushed away, ripped behind the hanyou who'd just been holding her. She groaned, a tiny sound of dismay and vexation, then turned a glare on the small kitsune who seemed perfectly fine and was shaking his head to clear it after the sudden bump.

Again it had happened. _Again_.

"_Damn it_, Shippou! _Watch where the fuck you're going_!"

Shippou, who was gaping at the puddle on the floor, jumped to his feet, his chest swelling with indignation as he scampered toward them. "Me! And who put water all over the floor, huh? How was I supposed to know this was here! You yell at me all the time for stuff like this!"

InuYasha's frustration was as palpable as hers. She could feel it rolling off of him in waves. "It was an accident, you stupid little fox! Who told you to go running through here anyway!"

"But Kagome was—" Shippou pulled to an abrupt stop as noticed Kagome. "Kagome!" Quick as silver, he changed tactics, darting around InuYasha's feet to jump into Kagome's arms. "You're awake!" He paused, looking confused. "Why're you breathing so hard? Were you running, too?" He twisted and shot a dirty look at InuYasha. "Were you fighting with Kagome again?"

InuYasha snarled, showing fang to the kitsune. His fist came up. "_What_! Listen, you little—"

Shippou cowered into her, and Kagome stepped back, drawing a long, reluctant sigh. "Okay, stop. We weren't fighting, Shippou." She spoke to Shippou, but kept her eyes on InuYasha. "Shippou's right. We can't leave the hallway like this. That wouldn't have happened if we'd cleaned it up right away to begin with."

Her heart was still pounding. Her body was still sensitized and hot. She ached with the loss, and let him see it.

Shippou was quiet, his gaze darting between the two of them, seeming to sense he'd missed something.

His fist lowered, slowly, and the scowl dropped away from his face. Guilt flickered in his eyes briefly before he averted them. "Keh. Fine." He turned his back on both of them and headed for the puddle. "I'll get a mop."

Kagome watched him go with more than a little regret. But she knew what had just happened wasn't over, and she knew she didn't want it to be.

And thanks to last night, now she knew something else, too. He wanted her, not because she was some helpless reminder of his dead girlfriend, but because she was her. And because of last night, and this morning, too, she was confident that she could push him beyond whatever internal objections kept holding him back.

As of right then, Kagome decided, she was done letting him push her away. Whatever his reasons were, they weren't good enough.

* * *

A/N: Hello again! Busy Quill dropping in for a little early Christmas present, I suppose. I know some people were hoping for a lemon in this chapter, but I promise it's on its way. I'm cruel enough to think they need a bit more frustration yet. ^_^

You have no idea how hard this chapter was for me to write. I have, no lie, no less than five complete versions of the conversation between InuYasha and Kagome sitting on my hard drive. In two different points of view. Arrgh. Color me frustrated. There were so many way it could have gone and still gotten where it needed to go, and only one that felt really right. And even after I had the conversation to somewhere near my satisfaction, November hit, and I've been running my tail ever since (NaNoWriMo, foreign company in my home, extra shifts at work, t_wo freaking weddings_ in two freaking months), so even after the hard part of the chapter was written, it was almost impossible to find time to actually write the rest.

Anyway, all that to say, I'm so sorry the chapter took so long, and I hope the hard work paid off.

And so, there you have it. And now, I've taken as much time as I can just to write this much. It's off to finish Christmas shopping. I'll be posting this first on , then on MediaMiner and a little later, when I have time (also, it may need some revision yet, so I may have to revisit it in a day or so. My apologies for the typos, wherever I missed them. ;_;). Reviews and theories, as always, are welcome.

Hope this is a little spot of extra cheer in an already cheerful (stressful?) holiday season! Merry Christmas everyone!

~Quill


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